
Class Pf\H 2 .-5 
Book ; S 5~ 
Ooipgliffi . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



GJKHGE JHJJKO^ 



LSI 



FOR 



READING and RECITATION. 



COMPILED BY 

/ 

CHARLES C. SHOEMAKER. 



*7 




PUBLICATION DEPARTMENT, 

She HAJPiOHAii School op eiiOGUrciOH and Oi^acto^y, 

PHILADELPHIA. 
1886. 



THf 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1886, by 

THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OP ELOCUTION AND ORATORY, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 



PREFACE. 



A volume of humorous selections needs no introduc- 
tion. Its title is sufficient to secure its welcome. Every- 
one enjoys humor. No part of a newspaper is more 
frequently read than the " Funny Column." The wise 
and learned enjoy it as much as the young and gay. 

In the preparation of such a volume we experience 
no ordinary difficulty in procuring selections that are 
really fresh and new. To secure this end we have 
spared no pains in gathering such material as has not 
become flat and threadbare through incessant repeti- 
tion. 

We have also endeavored to guard against the intro- 
duction of anything coarse and unrefined, and while 
w r e have striven to provide for a wide variety of indi- 
vidual preferences, we trust nothing will be found in 
these pages to offend the purest and most cultivated 
tastes. 

We desire to acknowledge our indebtedness to the 
public for the generous welcome accorded our previous 
publications, and especially to the kind friends who 
have contributed to the present volume either original 
or selected articles. 

The Publishers. 
iii 



CONTENTS.' 1 



PAGE 

Candor, .' 7 

Fourth of July in Jonesville, 8 

Her No, 17 

Hoffenstein's Bugle, New Orleans Times- Democrat . 17 

Happy Love, Burlington Hawkeye 19 

Modern Wedding Rites, 20 

At the Masquerade, 21 

The Amateur Flute-Player, 22 

Beating a Conductor, Detroit Free Press 23 

Katey's Letter, Lady Dufferin 25 

Arathusa's Torment, 27 

A Quart of Milk, Emma Dunning Banks .... 28 

The Trials of a Schoolmistress, . . . . N. Y. Sun 30 

The Labor Question, 31 

The Umbrella on the Beach, Harper's Bazar 32 

A Victim of Charity, 33 

. Der Dog und der Lobster, 36 

A Proposal, Puck 38 

The Load on His Mind, Burlington Hawkeye 38 

Personal, Chicago Tribune 40 

The Flood and the Ark, 4L 

Farmer Stebbins on Rollers, Will Carleton 46 

The Boy's Story, E. E. Rexford 51 

Spoopendyke Stops Smoking Brooklyn Eagle, . 56 

What the Choir Sang about the New 

Bonnet M . T. Morrison 59 

The Minister's Grievances, Max Adeler 61 

Engaged, 63 

Mrs. Middlerib's Letter, Burlington Hawkeye 65 

Polonius to Laertes. — " Renewed," " 70 

Why He Waited to Laugh, Detroit Free Press 70 

A School-Day, Wdl F. McSparran 72 

Dot Leedle Loweeza, Charles F. Adams 74 

Experience with a Refractory Cow, 75 

Jealousy in the Choir, Lowell New Moon 78 

Her Lovers, Bachelor Ben 80 

Consolation Even on a Mixed Train, . Traveler's Magazine 81 

Pat's Reason, Brooklyn Eagle 82 

Back Where They Used to Be James Whitcomb Riley 83 

Getting Letters & 



VI CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Nickerdemus Quadrille, Texas Sif tings 87 

Pointer's Dyspeptic Goat, Von Boyle 89 

Pat's Letter 91 

Tom Sawyer Treated for Lovesickness.ifarfc Twain 93 

Poet-Tree, H. C. Dodge 96 

Art and Nature, 97 

The Duel Between Mr. Shott and Mr. 

Nott, Harper's Weekly 98 

Theology in the Quarters, The Century 99 

Love's Seasons, Frank Dempster Sherman ... 100 

Timothy Doolan's Will, 101 

A Medley, Arr. by Elizabeth M. Irving . . 102 

Uncle Tom and the Hornets, Detroit Free Press 105 

Time's Revenge, 107 

Agnes, I Love Thee, 108 

Brudder Gardiner on Music, 108 

My Rival, Bessie Chandler 109 

Time Turns the Tables, Ill 

His Sign, 112 

A Lesson in Tennis, C. F. Coburn .. 113 

Daniel in the Lions' Den E. E. Ten Eyck 115 

The Parent with the Hoof, 120 

A Similar Case, 121 

The Burglar Alarm, Birch Arnold 122 

An Idyl of the Period, George A. Baker 130 

Burdock's Music-Box, 133 

First Adventures in England, 137 

Ethiopiomania, Henry Tyrrell 138 

The Irishman's Panorama, James Burdette 139 

The Naughty Greek Girl, 141 

Love at the Seaside, 143 

The Man Who Apologized, Detroit Free Press 146 

The Boy and the Frog, 149 

, She Referred Him to Her Pa, Somerville Journal 150 

Uncle Cephas' Yarn Century Magazine 151 

Beneath Her Window, 152 

The Photographs, 153 

A Woman's " No," Arthur Graham 157 

The Lightning-Rod Dispenser, .... Will Carleton 158 

Miss Simmons' New Bonnet, Laurie A. Raymond 163 

A Girl of the Period, 164 

The Honest Deacon, I 66 

Miss Minerva's Disappointment, . . . Miss E. T. Corbeit 168 

Pharisee and Sadducee, 171 

now Jimmy Tended the Baby, 172 

The Three Lovers, 174 

How His Garments Got Turned, 183 



CHOICE HUMOR 



FOR 



READING AND RECITATION. 



CANDOR. 



"T KNOW what you're going to say," she said, 

-1- And she stood up, looking uncommonly tall ; 
" You are going to speak of the hectic fall, 
And say you're sorry the summer's dead, 
And no other summer was like it, you know, 
And I can imagine what made it so. 
Now aren't you, honestly ?" " Yes," I said. 

" I know what you're going to say," she said ; 

" You're going to ask if I forget 

That day in June when the woods were wet, 

And you carried me " — here she dropped her head — 

" Over the creek ; you are going to say, 

Do I remember that horrid day ? 

Now aren't you, honestly ?" " Yes," I said. 

" I know what you're going to say," she said ; 

" You are going to say that since that time 

You have rather tended to run to rhyme, 

And " — her clear glance fell, and her cheek grew red- 

" And have I noticed your tone was queer, 

Why, everybody has seen it here ! 

Now aren't you, honestly ?" " Yes," I said. 

7 



8 FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 

" I know what you're going to say," I said ; 

" You are going to say you've been much annoyed, 

And I'm short of tact — you will say devoid — 

And I'm clumsy, and awkward, and call me Ted, 

And I'll bear abuse like a dear old lamb, 

And you'll have me, anyway, just as I am. 

Now aren't you, honestly ?" " Ye — es," she said. 



FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 



THE celebration was held in Josiah's sugar bush, and 
I meant to be on the ground in good season, for 
when I have jobs I dread, I am for takin' 'em by the 
forelock and grapplin' with 'em at once. But as I was 
bakin' my last plum puddin' and chicken pie, the folks 
begun to stream by, I hadn't no idee thier could be so 
many folks scairt up in Jonesville. I thought to myself, 
I wonder if they'd flock out so to a prayer-meetin.' But 
they kep' a comin', all kind of folks, in all kinds of ve- 
hicles, from a six-horse team, down to peacible lookin* 
men and wimmen, drawin' baby wagons, with two 
babies in most of 'em. 

There was a stagin' built in most the middle of the 
grove for the leadin' men of Jonesville, and some 
board seats all round it for the folks to set on. As 
Josiah owned the ground, he was invited to set upon the 
stagin'. 

And as I glanced up at that man every little while 
through the day, I thought proudly to myself, there 
may be nobler lookin' men there, and men that would 



FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 9 

weigh more by the steelyards, but there haint a whiter 
shirt bosom there than Josiah Allen's. 

When I got there the seats«was full. Betsey Bobbet 
was jest ahead of me, and says she : 

" Come on, Josiah Allen's wife, let us have a seat, we 
can obtain one, if we push and scramble enough." As 
I looked upon her carryin' out her doctrine, pushin' 
and scrambling I thought to myself, if I didn't know to 
the contrary, I never should take you for a modest dig- 
nifier and retirer. And as I beheld her breathhr hard, 
and her elboes wildly wavin' in the air > pushin' in be- 
tween native men of Jonesville and foreigners, I again 
methought, I don't believe you would be so sweaty and 
out of breath a votin' as you be now. And as I 
watched her labors and efforts I continued to methink 
sadly, how strange ! how strange ! that retirin' modesty 
and delicacy can stand so firm in some situations, and 
then be so quickly overthrowed in others seemin'ly not 
near so hard. 

Betsey finally got a seat, wedged in between a large, 
healthy Irishman and a native constable, and she 
motioned for me to come on, at the same time pokin' 
a respectable old gentleman in front of her with her 
parasol, to make him move along. Says I : 

" I may as well die one way as another, as well ex- 
pier a standin' up, as in tryin' to get a seat," and I 
quietly leaned up against a hemlock tree and composed 
myself for events. A man heard my words, which I 
spoke about half to myself, and says he : 

" Take my seat, mum." 

Says I, " No ! keep it." 

Says he, " I am jest comin' down with a fit, I have got 
to leave the ground instantly." 



10 FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 

Says I, "In them cases I will." So I sot. His 
tongue seemed thick, and his breath smelt of brandy, 
but I make no insinuations. 

About noon, Prof. Aspire Todd walked slowly on to 
the ground, arm in arm with the editer of the Gimlet, 
old Mr. Bobbet follerin' him closely behind. Countin' 
two eyes to a person, and the exceptions are triflm', 
there was seven hundred and fifty or sixty eyes aimed at 
him, as he walked through the crowd. He was dressed 
in a new shinin' suit of black, his complexion was 
deathly, his hair was jest turned from white, and was 
combed straight back from his forward and hung down 
long, over his coat coller. He had a big moustache, 
about the color of his hair, only bearin' a little more on 
the sandy, and a couple of pale blue eyes, with a pair 
of spectacles over 'em. 

As he walked upon the stagin' behind the Editer of 
the Gimlet, the band struck up " Hail to the Chief that 
in Trihump Advances." As soon as it stopped playin', 
the Editer of the Gimlet come forward and said : 

" Fellow-citizens of Jonesville and the adjacent and 
surroundin' world, 1 have the honor and privilege of 
presenting to you the orator of the day, the noble and 
eloquent Prof. Aspire Todd, Esq." 

Prof. Todd came forward and made a low bow. 

" Bretheren and sisters of Jonesville," says he, 
" Friends and patrons of Liberty, in risin' upon this 
aeroter, I have signified by that act a desire and a wil- 
lingness to address you. I am not here, fellow and sis- 
ter citizens, to outrage your feelings by triflin' remarks, 
I am not here, male patrons of liberty, to lead your 
noble, and you, female patrons, your tender footsteps 
into the flowery fields of useless rhetorical eloquence ; I 



FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 11 

am here, noble brothers and sisters of Jonesville, not in 
a mephitical manner, and, I trust, not in a mentorial, 
but to present a few plain truths in a plain manner for 
your consideration. My friends, we are in one sense 
but tennifolious blossoms of life ; or, if you will pardon 
the tergiversation, we are all but mineratin' tennirosters 
hovering upon an illinition of mythoplasm." 

" Jess so," cried old Bobbet, who was settin' on a 
bench right under the speaker's stand, with his fat, red 
face lookin' up shinm' with pride and enthusiasm (and 
the brandy he had took to honor the old Revolutionary 
heroes), "jess so ! so we be !" 

Prof. Todd looked down on him in a troubled kind of 
a way for a minute, and then went on — 

" Noble inhabitants of Jonesville and the rural dis- 
tricts, we are actinolitic berns', each of our souls, like 
the acalphia, radiates a circle of prismatic tentacles, 
showing the divine irridescent essence of which com- 
posed are they." 

" Jes' so," shouted old Bobbet, louder than before. 
" Jes' so, so they did, I've always said so." 

" And if we are content to molder out our existence, 
like fibrous, veticulated, polypus, clingin' to the crusta- 
ceous courts of custom, if we cling not like soarin' pry- 
tanes to the phantoms that lower thier sceptres down 
through the murky waves of retrogression, endeav- 
orin' to lure us upward in the scale of progressive bein' 
— in what degree do we differ from the accolphia ?" 

" Jes' so," says, old Bobbet, lookin' defiantly round on 
the audience. " There he has got you, how can they ?" 

Prof. Todd stopped again, looked doun on Bobbet, 
and put his hand to his brow in a wild kind of a way 
for a minute, and then went on — 



12 FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 

" Let us, noble brethren in the broad field of human- 
ity, let us rise, let us prove that mind is superior to mat- 
ter, let us prove ourselves superior to the acalphia — " 

" Yes, less," says old Bobbet, " less prove ourselves." 

" Let us shame the actiijia," said the Professor. 

" Yes, jes' so !" shouted old Bobbet, " less shame him !" 
And in his enthusiasm he got up and hollered agin, 
" Less shame him." 

Prof. Todd stopped stone still, his face red as blood, 
he drinked several swallows of water, and then he 
whispered a few words to the Editer of the Gimlet, 
who immediately come forward, and said : 

" Although it is a scene of touchin' beauty to see an 
old gentleman, and a bald-headed one, so in love with 
eloquence, and to give such remarkable proofs of it at 
his age, still as it is the request of my young friend — 
and I am proud to say, * my young friend/ in regard to 
one gifted in so remarkable a degree — at his request I 
beg to be permitted to hint that if the bald-headed old 
gentleman in the linen coat can conceal his admiration 
and suppress his applause, he will confer a favor on my 
gifted young friend, and through him indirectly to 
Jonesville, to America, and the great cause of humanity 
throughout the length and breadth of the country." 

Here he made a low bow and sot down. Prof. Todd 
continued his piece without any more interruption, till 
most the last, he wanted the public of Jonesville to 
" dround black care in the deep waters of oblivion, 
mind not her mad throes of dissolvin' bem', but let the 
deep waters cover her black head, and march onward." 

Then the old gentleman forgot himself, and sprung 
up and hollered — 

"Yes! dround the black cat; hold her head under! 



FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 13 

"What if she is mad ! Don't mind her screamin' ! There 
will be cats enough left in the world ! Do as he tells 
you to ! Less dround her !" 

Prof. Todd finished in a few words, and set doun, 
lookin' gloomy and morbid. 

The next speaker was a large, healthy-lookin' man, 
who talked against wimmin's rights. He didn't bring 
up no new arguments, but talked as they all do who op- 
pose 'em. About wimmin outragin' and destroyin' 
thier modesty by bein' in the same street with a man 
once every 'lection day. And he talked grand about 
how woman's weakness arroused all the shivelry and no- 
bility of man's nature, and how it was his dearest and 
most sacred privilege and happiness to protect her from 
even a summer's breeze, if it dared to blow too hard on 
her beloved and delicate form. 

Why, before he had got half through, a stranger 
from another world, who had never seen a woman, 
wouldn't have had the least idee that they was made of 
clay, as man was, but would have thought they was 
made of some thin gauze, liable at any minute to blow 
away, and that man's only employment was to stand 
and watch 'em, for fear some zephyr would get the ad- 
vantage of 'em. He called wimmin every pretty name 
he could think of, and, says he, wavin' his hands in the 
air in a rapped eloquence, and beatin' his breast in the 
same, he cried : 

" Shall these weak, helpless angels, these seraphines, 
these sweet, delicate, cooin' doves — whose only mission 
it is to sweetly coo — these rainbows, these posys vote ? 
Never ! my bretheren, never will we put such hardships 
upon 'em." 

As he sot down he professed himself and all the rest 



14 FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE. 

of his sect ready to die at any time, and in any way 
wimmin should say, rather than they should vote, or 
have any other hardship. Betsey Bobbet wept aloud, 
she was so delighted with it. 

Lawyer Nugent now got up and said : " That, where- 
as the speaking was foreclosed, or, in other words, fin- 
ished, he motioned they should adjourn to the dinner- 
table, as the fair committee had signified by a snowy 
signal that fluttered like a dove of promise above 
waves of emerald, or, in plainer terms, by a towel, that 
dinner was forthcoming ; whereas he motioned that 
they should adjourn sine die to the aforesaid table." 

Old Mr. Bobbet, and the Editer of the Gimlet sec- 
onded the motion at the same time. And Shakespeare 
Bobbet, wantin' to do somethin' in a public way, got up 
and motioned " that they proceed to the table on the 
usial road," but there wasn't any other way — only to 
wade the creek — that didn't seem to be necessary, but 
nobody took no notice of it, so it was jest as well. 

The dinner was good, but there was an awful crowd 
round the tables, and I was glad I wore my old lawn 
dress, for the children was thick, and so was bread and 
butter, and sass of all kinds, and jell tarts. And I 
hain't no shirk, I jest plunged right into the heat of the 
battle, as you may say, waitin' on the children, and the 
spots on my dress skirt would have been too much for 
anybody that couldn't count forty. To say nothhV 
about old Mr. Peedick steppin' through the back 
breadth, and Betsey Bobbet ketchin' holt of me and 
rippin' it off the waist as much as half a yard. And 
then a horse started up behind the widder Tubbs, as I 
was bendin' down in front of her to get somethin' out of 
a basket, and she, weighin' above two hundred, was pre- 



FOURTH OF JULY IN JONES VILLE. 15 

cipitated onto my straw bonnet, jammin' it down almost 
as flat as it was before it was braided. I came off 
pretty well in other respects, only about two yards of 
the ruflin , of my black silk cape was tore by two boys 
who got to fightin' behind me, and bein' blind with 
rage, tore it off, thinkin' they had got holt of each 
other's hair. There was a considerable number of 
toasts drank ; I can't remember all of 'em, but among 
'em was these : 

" The eagle of Liberty ; may her quills lengthen till 
the proud shadow of her wings shall sweetly rest on 
every land." 

" The Fourth of July ; the star which our old four 
fathers tore from the ferocious mane of the howling lion 
of England, and set in the calm and majestic brow of 
E pluribus ilnum. May it gleam with brighter and 
brighter radiance, till the lion shall hide his dazzled 
eyes, and cower, like a stricken lamb at the feet of E 
pluribus." 

" Dr. Bombus, our respected citizen ; how he tenderly 
ushers us into a world of trial, and professionally and 
scientifically assists us out of it. May his troubles be 
as small as his morphine powders, and the circle of his 
joys as well rounded as his pills." 

" The Press of Jonesville, the Gimlet, and the Augur ; 
may they perforate the crust of ignorance with a gigan- 
tic hole, through which blushing civilization can sweetly 
peer into futurity." 

" The Fair Sect : First in war, first in peace, and first 
in the hearts of their countrymen. May them that 
love the aforesaid flourish like a green bayberry tree, 
whereas may them that hate them, dwindle down as 
near to nothin' as the bonnets of the aforesaid/' 



16 FOURTH OF JULY IS JONESVILLE. 

That peice of toast was Lawer Nugent's. 

Prof. Aspire Todd's was the last. 

" The Luminous Lamp of Progression, whose sciather- 
cal shadows, falling upon earthly matter, not promoting 
sciolism, or Siccity, may it illumine humanity as it tar- 
digradely floats from matter's aquius wastes, to minds 
majestic and apyrous climes." 

Shakespeare Bobbet then rose up, and says he : 

" Before we leave this joyous grove, I have a poem 
which I was requested to read to you ; it is dedicated to 
the Goddess of Liberty, and was transposed by another 
female, who modestly desires her name not to be men- 
tioned any further than the initials, B. B." 

He then read the follerin' spirited lines : 

" Before all causes East or West, 
I love the Liberty cause the best, 
I love its cheerful greetings ; 
No joys on earth can e'er be found, 
Like those pure pleasures that abound, 
At Jones vi lie Liberty meetings. 

" To all the world I give my hand, 
My heart is with that noble band, 
The Jonesville Liberty Brothers ; 
May every land preserved be, 
Each clime that dotes on Liberty — 
Jonesville before all others " 

The picknick never broke up till most night ; I went 
home a little while before it broke, and if there was a 
beat out creeter, I was ; I jest dropped my delapidated 
form into a rockin' chair with a red cushien and says I : 

" There needn't be another word said, I will never go 
to another Fourth as long as my name is Josiah Allen's 
wife." 



HAPPY LOVE. 19 

und at last I offers him fifty dollars, und he says, ' Veil, 
I vill dake fifty dollars, because I can't vaste any more 
time, I haf to go to de camp/ After he had gone avay 
I goes to de door und vatches for de soldiers vat vanted 
de bugle. I sees dem passing along de street, und I 
says, * My frents, I haf got de bugle,' und dey say, 
' Veil, then, vy don't you blow it ?' My gr-r-acious, 
Herman, vat you dink ? All dem soldiers belong to de 
same crowd, und dey make de trick to swindle me. Levi 
Cohen, across de street, he finds it out, und efery day he 
gets boys to blow horns in front of my store, so as to make 
me dink I vas svindled. Herman, I dink you had bet- 
ter stay mit de store."— New Orleans Times-Democrat 



HAPPY LOVE. 



WHILE they sat before the fire, 
Nothing more did he desire, 
Than to get a little nigher, 

If he could ; 
And his heart beat high and higher, 
And her look grew shy and shyer, 
When he sidled up close by her, 
As he should. 

Then he ventured to inquire 
If her sister, Jane Mariar, 
And her mother and her sire, 

Were quite w r ell. 
And from time to time he'd eye her, 
As though he would like to buy her, 
And his bashfulness w T as dire, 

For a spell. 



20 MODERN WEDDING RITES. 

Then his husky throat grew dryer 
When he told her that the 'Squire 
To himself would gladly tie her 

If she would ; 
Might he now go ask her sire ? 
And he thought he would expire, 
When she said, to his desire, 

That he could ! 

— Burlington Hawkeye. 



MODERN WEDDING RITES. 



" YT7ILT thou take this brown stone front, 

* » These carriages, this diamond, 
To be the husband of thy choice, 

Fast locked in the bonds of Hymen ? 
And wilt thou leave thy home and friends 

To be his loving wife, 
And help to spend his large income 

So long as thou hast life ?" 

" I will !" the modest maid replies, 
The love-light beaming from her eyes. 

" And wilt thou take this water-fall, 

This ostentatious pride, 
With all these unpaid milliner's bills, 

To be thy chosen bride ? 
And wilt thou love and cherish her 

Whilst thou hast life and health, 
But die as soon as possible 

And leave her all thy wealth ?" 

" I will !" the fearless mate replies, 
And eager waits the nuptial ties. 



AT THE MASQUERADE. 21 

Then I pronounce you man and wife ; 

And what I've joined forever 
The next best man may disunite, 

And the first divorce-court sever. 



AT THE MASQUERADE. 



I KNOW 'twas not the proper thing to do, 
And yet I thought it would be jolly too, 
To go alone to that swell masquerade, 
And so I did it. Well my plans were laid. 
My wife of my intentions naught did know. 
I told her, out of town I had to go, 
And she believed me. Leaving her to stay 
At home, I went and danced in costume gay. 
I had been at the ball an hour or so, 
When some one introduced a domino. 
I saw that she was plump and graceful, and 
She had a pretty little foot and hand. 
Her eyes, I noticed, flashed like diamonds bright, 
Though plump, she waltzed divinely ; feather light, 
And then she flirted with most perfect art, 
It isn't singular I lost my heart. 
Soon my sweet charmer I began to ask 
To step into an alcove and unmask : 
To let me see the lovely face I'd swear 
Was hid behind that mask. My lady fair 
At first refused. I pleaded long and hard ; 
Declared my life forever would be marred, 
Unless her cruelty she would relent. 
My pleading won, at last, a shy consent. 



22 THE AMATEUR FLUTE-PLAYER. 

Her face she would permit my eyes to view, 
If I unmasked, the selfsame instant, too. 
The dancing-hall had alcoves all around, 
And soon in one of these ourselves we found ; 
The alcove was, for two, the proper size, 
And passing dancers would not recognize 
You, for the light was dim within the niche, 
And flowers, about, their perfume gave. My witch 
Her mask removed. I meantime did the same. 
" My wife !" " My husband !" So we did exclaim. 
The truth we neither of us had mistrusted, 
And each was disappointed and disgusted. 



THE AMATEUR FLUTE-PLAYER. 



H 1 



"EAR the fluter with his flute, 
Silver flute ! 

Oh, what a world of wailing is awakened by its toot ! 
How it demi-semi-quavers, 

On the maddened air of night ! 
And defieth all endeavors 

To escape the sound or sight 
Of the flute, flute, flute, 
With its tootle, tootle, toot, 
With reiterated tootings of exasperated toots. 
The long-protracted tootings of agonizing toots, 
Of the flute, flute, flute, flute, 
Flute, flute, flute, 
And the wheezing and the spittings of its toots. 

Should he get that other flute — 
Golden flute — 
Oh, what a deeper anguish will its presence institoot ! 



BEATING A CONDUCTOR. 23 

How his eyes to heaven he'll raise 
As he plays 
All the days ! 
How he'll stop us on our ways 

With its praise ; 
And the people — oh, the people ! 
That don't live up in the steeple, 
But inhabit Christian parlors 
Where he visiteth and plays — 
Where he plays, plays, plays 
In the cruelest of ways, 
And thinks we ought to listen, 
And expects us to be mute, 
Who would rather have the earache 
Than the music of his flute — 
Of his flute, flute, flute, 
And the tooting of his toot — 
Of the toot wherein he tooteleth his agonizing toot 
Of the fluet, fluit, floot. 
Phlute, phlewt, phlewght, 
And the tootle-tootle-tooting of his toot. 



BEATING A CONDUCTOR. 



A PASSENGER going West from Detroit by rail, 
the other day, had a pass to Chicago. When the 
conductor took it up he asked several questions to sat- 
isfy himself that the pass had not been transferred, and 
the holder of the pasteboard didn't take it as good- 
naturedly as some men would. He didn't have much 
to say, but he was determined on revenge. As soon as 
the conductor left the car, the man changed seats, re- 



24 Seating a conductor. 

moved his linen duster, took off his hat, and looked 
like a different person altogether. After the train left 
the next station the conductor came along with an eye 
out for new passengers, and presently reached out for 
the holder of the pass. 

" I haven't got any ticket," was the surly answer. * 

" Then you must pay your fare." ' 

11 1 won't do it." 

" See here," said the conductor, as he began to wake 
up, " you must either pay your fare or produce a ticket. 
If not, I'll drop you on the road." 

" Drop and be hanged !" 

The train was not stopped, but after a run of ten 
minutes it reached a station, and arrangements were 
made for bouncing the man. When all was completed 
he showed his pass. 

" Why didn't you tell me you had a pass ?" roared 
the conductor. 

" Why didn't you ask me ?" shouted the traveler. 

" Well, I don't like such fooling." 

"Nor I, either." 

The train went on, and the man put on his duster, 
traded hats with a passenger, and again looked like 
some one else. He changed his seat to the front end 
of the car, and was seemingly sound asleep when the 
conductor again had occasion to pass through. He 
took two fares, and then held out his hand to the trav- 
eler. There was no response. He shook the sleeper 
gently, but the latter slept on. Then he shook him 
good and stout, and called " ticket " in his ear. 

" How dare you shake me around in this manner ?" 
shouted the man, as he awoke and stood up. 

" Ticket, please." 



katey's letter. 25 

" But I don't please ! How dare you come to me 
every time the train leaves a station ?" 

The conductor looked down the aisle, thought he saw 
the man with the pass in his old seat, and said to the 
other : 

" Come, sir, don't bother me. I want your ticket." 

" You can't have it." 

" Then I'll put you off!" 

He reached for the bell-rope, but seeing a general 
grin all around the car he stopped and looked more 
closely at the man, and recognized him as the one with 
the pass. He went out without a word, and when he re- 
turned, half an hour later, he expected another trap. 
He looked carefully over the car, and was going slow r ly 
along in search of new faces, when a man with his coat 
off and under the influence of liquor called out : 

"Shay, Captain, I hain't got any ticket !" 

" Ah, you can't beat me again — knew you as soon as 
I entered the car !" chuckled the official, and he walked 
on with a broad grin on his face. 

It was not until he saw the shirt-sleeved man get off 
at the next station that he knew he had been mistaken 
again, and had let him travel for nothing, while the 
man with the pass was in the smoking-car. — Detroit 
Free Press. 



KATEY'S LETTER 



OCH, girls, did you ever hear, 
I wrote my love a letter ? 
And al-tho' he cannot read 
Sure I thought 'twas all the better, 



26 katey's letter. 

For why should he be puzzled 
Wid hard spellin' in the matter, 
When the maneing is so plaine 
That I love him faithfully ? 

My heart was full, but when I wrote 

I dared not put the half in, 
The neighbors know I love him, 

And they're mighty fond of chaffing. 
So I dared not write his name outside, 
For fear they would be laughing. 
So I wrote : " From Little Kate 
To one whom she loves faithfully." 

I wrote it and I folded it 

And put a seal upon it. 
'Twas a seal almost as big 

As the crown of my best bonnet, 
For I would not have the post-master 
Make his remarks upon it. 
As I said inside the letter 
That I loved him faithfully. 

Now, girls, would you belave me, 
That post-man so consaited, 

No answer will he bring me, 
So long as I have waited. 

But may-be there mayn't be one, 

For the rason that I stated 

That my love can neither read nor write 

But he loves me faithfully. 

Lady Dufferin. 



arathusa's torment. 27 



ARATHUSA'S TORMENT. 



MY name's Jack, and I'm eight years old. I got a 
sister Arathusa. She calls me a little torment, and 
I'll tell you the reason why. Arathusa is got a beau, 
and he comes to see her every night ; and they sit in 
the parlor back in the corner, on the sofa, and Ara- 
thusa, she turns the gas way, way down, till you can't 
hardly see. I like to be in the parlor when the gas is 
on full blaze, and have a good time, but she skites me 
out every night. I cheeked her once, you better be- 
lieve. She went to the door to look out and I crawled 
under the sofa. After awhile they came in and sat 
down on the sofa, and it got awful dark ; I couldn't 
hear anything but kiss, kiss, kiss ! So I reached out and 
I pulled Arathusa's foot. She said, " Oh ! mercy, 
what's that ?" And Alphonso said, " O Arathusa, I do 
love you so much," and she said, " Do you, dear ? When 
I think of your going away it almost breaks my heart !" 
and I snickered right out, I couldn't help it. And she 
ran to the door and looked through the key-hole and 
said, " I do believe that is Jack, nasty little torment, 
he is always where he ain't wanted ; won't I slap him 
when I catch him !" And that made me mad, and I 
crawled right out from under the sofa and I stood up 
before her and I said, " You think you're smart, don't 
you ? I guess I know what you been adoin' ; you been 
sittin' on Alphonso's lap and a letting him kiss you, 
like you let Bill Jones kiss you, and you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself, ain't you ? I don't care, I'm mad 
at you anyway ; if it hadn't been for buying that false 
wig of your'n, Pa would a bought me a velocipede like 



28 A QUART OF MILK. 

Tom Clifford's. You needn't be a grinding them false 
teeth of your'n at me, for I ain't a going out of here. 
I ain't as green as I look. I guess I know a thing or 
two. I don't care if you are twenty-eight years old, 
you ain't going to box me." 



A QUART OF MILK. 



I HAVE ventured to put into verse, 
An old newspaper paragraph terse, 
Which right good you will find, if 'tis old, 
For a comical story is told. 

There once lived in the famed town of Hull, 
A rich, deafened old lady named Mull, 
And 'tis said, in her trumpet of tin, 
That some children once peeped, and fell in, — 
But howe'er that might be, this I know, 
'Twas full large, for she ordered it so. 

Her quaint language of pure Holland Dutch 
Had accented her English so much, 
That sometimes you would find it a task 
Comprehending the questions she'd ask. 
She would scream out a " How do you do ?" 
And then level her trumpet at you. 

The old thing was so large and so queer, 
That you'd laugh 'stead of talk in her ear. 
It so happened, one fine summer's day, 
A new milkman was passing her way ; 
So she quickly ran down to the gate, 
Crying, " Here, milky man, vait ! vait ! vait !" 



A QUART OF MILK. 29 

Now the milkman was young, and I fear 

That the thoughts of a maid he held dear 

Had possessed him with dreams strange and sweet, 

As he lazily drove down the street. 

Absent minded, he paused near her door, 

Only half heard her resonant roar ; 

Only half saw the gleam of the tin, 
As she raised with a clatter and din 
That ear trumpet so huge 'neath his eyes ; 
[Had he seen, he'd have sure shown surprise], 
" Milky man," thus she cried, " come more near, 
Vat you scharge, milk a qvart, doan't you hear ?" 

Then she paused, with the ear trumpet nigh, 
To quick grumble, if price proved too high. 
Hark ? a gurgle — a splash — and the can 
Was upraised — and the milk ? oh ! it ran 
Full a quart down that trumpet of tin, 
And the Dutch that poured forth was a sin. 

" Donner Blixen !" she cried, " ach ! mein ear ; 
Schust you vait, milky man/' but in fear 
The poor milkman had sped on his way, 
And she ne'er saw him more from that day, 
For he journeys full three miles around, 
Just in order to keep safe and sound. 

He has heard of the deaf woman's boast 
That her fiendish small boy, on a post 
Daily perches, with heart full of ire, 
And a shotgun, all ready to fire, 
At the moment that man should appear, 
Who did empty that milk in her ear. 

Emma Dunning Banks. 



30 THE TRIALS OF A SCHOOLMISTRESS. 

THE TEIALS OF A SCHOOLMISTRESS. 



rpEACHER (in mental arithmetic). — If there were 
. -L three peaches on the table, Johnny, and your little 
sister should eat one of them, how many would be left ? 

Johnny — How many little sisters would be left ? 

Teacher — Now listen, Johnny. If there were three 
peaches on the table, and your little sister should eat 
one, how many would be left ? 

Johnny — We ain't had a peach in the house this 
year, let alone three. 

Teacher — We are only supposing the peaches to be 
on the table, Johnny. 

Johnny — Then they wouldn't be real peaches? 

Teacher — No. 

Johnny — Would they be preserved ? 

Teacher — Certainly not. 

Johnny — Pickled peaches ? 

Teacher — No, no. There wouldn't be any peaches at 
all, as I told you, Johnny, we only suppose the three 
peaches to be there. 

Johnny— Then there wouldn't be any peaches, of 
course. 

Teacher — Now, Johnny, put that knife in your 
pocket or I will take it away, and pay attention to 
what I am saying. We imagine three peaches to be on 
the table. 

Johnny — Yes. 

Teacher — And your little sister eats one of them and 
then goes away. 

Johnny — Yes, but she wouldn't go away until she had 
finished the three. You don't know my little sister. 



THE LABOR QUESTION. 31 

Teacher — But suppose your mother was there and 
wouldn't let her eat but one ? 

Johnny — Mother's out of town and won't be back 
until next week. 

Teacher (sternly) — Now, then, Johnny, I will put 
the question once more, and if you do not answer it 
correctly I shall keep you after school. If three 
peaches were on the table, and your little sister were to 
eat one of them, how many would be left ? 

Johnny (straightening up) — There wouldn't be any 
peaches left. I'd grab the other two. 

Teacher (touching the bell) — The scholars are now 
dismissed. Johnny White will remain where he is.- — 
N. Y. Sun. 



THE LABOR QUESTION. 



IHAFE forgodden my nodes, but I don'd care. Let 
us come back to de garden of Edane and Adam ! I 
don'd know vot I did mit dem notes (sotto voce). I 
vant to proofe der voman vas der pest man of de two — 
id's so in some families ! Led us begin mit poetry. I 
always like to begin mit poetry — in fact, I always do be- 
gin mit poetry. Vot vas dat man's name — name — na — 
oh ! you know dot man's name, why, dot Englishman ! 
You know dot man's name? No ? Dree und dree vas 
six, und two vas eight, und two vas den, Tennyson, dot 
vas de man's name ; he wrode dose onspirin' vords, 
" How does de leedle puziness bee, delighd — to — to 
bark und bide, he — he — geders beesvax all der day, und, 
und, und eads id up ad nighd." Dot's vot I say ! Vot 
righd has vone of dose onsignificant leedle bumble bees — 
bumble bee — Veil, ve'll let dot be ! You dake a poor, 
hard-vorkin' man vot comes to dis gountry, sometimes 



32 THE UMBRELLA ON THE BEACH. 

he don'd come ; uf he don'd come, you can't dook him. 
I see, dot is notin'. But I don'd care. No, I don'd 
care, care. Let us — I guess I'm stuck ! 



THE UMBRELLA ON THE BEACH. 



OF all the joys that summer brings, 
The one that doth excel, ah ! 
It is to lounge upon the beach 

Beneath a big umbrella. 
The sea quite near, and nearer still 

Some charming rustic belle, ah ! 
And watch the girls in bathing suits 

Of red and blue and yellah 
Go through all sorts of pretty tricks 

To fascinate a fellah ; 
To feel the spray bedew your cheek, 

And briny fragrance smell, ah ! 
And scoop from out the glistening sand 

A crab or mussel shell, ah ! 
To think you're in enchanted land 

Held by a fairy spell, ah ! 
And dreamily a tale of love 

In whispered tones to tell, ah ! 
And then, perhaps, a kiss to get 

That makes your bosom swell, ah ! 
With pride and joy. There's naught, I vow, 

Such pleasure can excel, ah ! 
And if you doubt, go seek a beach, 

Find some bewitching belle, ah ! 
And while away an hour or two 

Beneath a big umbrella. 

— Harper's Bazar. 



A VICTIM OF CHARITY. 33 

A VICTIM OF CHARITY. 



The bashful young man at the fair. How he was soon relieved of his 
spare change by a fair young Manager. 

IT was at a charity fair, and he had come there at the 
special request of his " cousin/' who was at the 
head of the flower-table. He opened the door bash- 
fully, and stood, hat in hand, looking at the brilliant 
scene before him, when a young lady rushed up, and, 
grabbing him by the arm, said : 

" Oh ! you must ! you will take a chance in our cake. 
Come right over here. This way." 

Blushing to the roots of his hair, he stammered out 
that he " really didn't have the pleasure of knowing — " 

" Oh, that's all right," said the young lady. "You'll 
know me better before you leave. I'm one of the man- 
agers, you understand. Come, the cake will all be 
taken if you don't hurry." And she almost dragged 
him over to one of the middle tables. " There, now — 
only fifty cents a slice, and you may get a real gold 
ring. You had better take three or four slices, it will 
increase your chances, you know." 

"You're very good," he stammered. "But I'm not 
fond of cake— that is, I haven't any use for the ring — 
I—" 

" Ah, that will be so nice," said the young lady, " for 
now if you get the ring you can give it back, and we'll 
put it in another cake." 

" Y-e-e-s," said the young man with a sickly smile. 
" To be sure, but—" 

" Oh, there isn't any but about it," said the young 
lady, smiling sweetly. " You know you promised !" 
3 



34 A VICTIM OF CHARITY. 

" Promised ?" 

" Well, no, not exactly that ; but you will take just 
one slice !" and she looked her whole soul into his eyes. 

"Well, I suppose— " 

" To be sure. There is your cake," and she slipped a 
great slice into his delicately-gloved hands, as he handed 
her a one-dollar bill. " Oh, that is too nice," added the 
young lady, as she plastered another piece of cake on 
top of the one she had just given him. " I knew you 
would take at least two chances," and his one-dollar 
bill disappeared across the table, and then she called to 
a companion : " Oh, Miss Larkins, here is a .gentleman 
who w T ishes to have his fortune told." 

" Oh, does he ? Send him right over," answered Miss 
Larkins. 

" I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. 
I don't remember saying anything about — " 

" Oh, but you will," said the first young lady, tugging 
at the youth's arm. " It's for the good of the cause, 
and you won't refuse," and once more the beautiful 
eyes looked soulfully into his. " Here we are. Now 
take an envelope ; open it. There ! you are going to be 
married in a year. Isn't that jolly? Seventy-five 
cents, please." This time the youth was careful to hand 
out the exact change. 

" Oh, I should just like to have my fortune told. 
May I ?" said the first young lady. 

" Of course you may, my dear," said Miss Larkins, 
handing out one of her envelopes. " Oh, dear, you are 
going to be married this year, too. Seventy-five cents 
more, please," and the poor youth came down with an- 
other dollar note. " No change here, you know," added 
Miss Larkins, putting the greenback in her pocket. 



A VICTIM OF CHARITY. 35 

" Oh, come, let's try our weight," said the first young 
lady, once more tugging at the bashful youth's coat 
sleeve, and before he knew where he w T as he found him- 
self standing on the platform of the scales. " One hun- 
dred and thirty-two," said the young lady. " Oh, how 
I would like to be a great heavy man, like you/' and 
she jumped on the scales like a bird. " One hundred 
and eighteen. Well, that is light. One dollar, please." 

"What!" said the youth, "one dollar? Isn't that 
pretty steep ? I mean, I — " 

" Oh, but you know," said the young lady, " it is for 
charity," and another dollar was added to the treasury 
of the fair. 

11 1 think I'll have to go. I have an engagement 
at—" 

" Oh, but first you must buy me a bouquet for taking 
you all around," said the young lady. "Eight over 
here," and they were soon in front of the flower-table. 
" Here is just what I want," and the young lady picked 
up a basket of roses and violets. "Seven dollars, 
please." 

" Oh, Jack, is that you ?" cried the poor youth's 
" cousin " from behind the flower-counter, " and buying 
flowers for Miss Giggle, too. Oh, I shall be terribly 
jealous unless you buy me a basket, too," and she picked 
up an elaborate affair. " Twelve dollars, please, Jack," 
and the youth put down the money, looking terribly 
confused, and much as though he didn't know whether 
to make a bolt for the door or give up all hope and 
settle down in despair. 

" You'll excuse me, ladies," he stammered, " but I 
must go ; I have " 

" Here, let me pin this in your button-hole," inter- 



36 DER DOG UND DER LOBSTER. 

4 

rupted his " cousin." " Fifty cents, please," and then 
the youth broke away and made a straight line for the 
door. 

" Well, if ever I visit another fair, may I be — be 
swindled !" he ejaculated, as he counted over his cash 
to see if he had the car fare to ride home. 



DER DOG UND DER LOBSTER. 



DOT dog, he vas dot kind of dog 
Vot ketch dot ret so sly, 
Und squeeze him mit his leedle teeth, 
Und den dot ret vas die. 

Dot dog, he vas onquisitive 

VerefTer he vas go, 
Und like dot voman, all der time, 

Someding he vants to know. 

Von day, all by dot market stand, 
Vere fish und clams dey sell, 

Dot dog vas poke his nose aboud 
Und find out vot he smell. 

Dot lobster, he vas dook to snooze 

Mit vone eye open vide, 
Und ven dot dog vas come along, 

Dot lobster he vas spied. 

Dot dog, he smell him mit his noze 
Und scratch him mit his paws, 

Und push dot lobster all aboud, 
Und vonder vat he vas. 



DED DOG UND DER LOBSTER. 37 

Und den dot lobster, he yoke up, 

Und crawl yoost like dot snail, 
Und make vide open ov his claws, 

Und grab dot doggie's tail. 

Und den so quick as never vas, 

Dot cry vent to der sky, 
Und like dot swallows vot dey sing, 

Dot dog vas homevard fly. 

Yoost like dot dunderbolt he vent — 

Der sight vas aw T ful grand, 
Und every street dot dog was turn, 

Down vent dot apple-stand. 

Der shildren cry, der yimmin scream, 

Der mens fell on der ground, 
Und dot boliceman mit his club 

Vas novare to pe found. 

I make dot run, und call dot dog, 

Und vistle awful kind ; 
Dot. makes no different vot I say, 

Dot dog don't look pehind. 

Und pooty soon dot race vas end, 

Dot dog vas lost his tail — 
Dot lobster, I vas took him home, 

Und cook him in dot pail. 

Dot moral vas, I tole you 'boud, 

Pefore vas neffer known — 
Don't vant to find out too much tings 

Dot vasn't ov your own. 



38 THE LOAD ON HIS MIND. 

A PEOPOSAL. 



LITTLE Pet, 
When with dew the grass is wet, 
We in rosy mood will set 
Out to seek where signs are met 
With the legend gay " To Let." 
We a purple house will get 
Where the sparrows chat and fret, 
And the dreamy lawn a net 
Is of fern and violet. 
There, together, care — regret 
We will conquer ; Harte the Bret 
I will read to you till yet 
Brighter burn your eyes of jet. 
Answer, tell me, little pet, 
Will you go with me ? 

" You bet !" —Puck. 



THE LOAD ON HIS MIND. 



SOME one, a figure arrayed in white, with frills 
around its head and blood in its eye, let him in, 
and he lounged with easy grace into the first chair that 
went past him, after he had made several vain attempts 
to seat himself on the piano. The reproachful figure of 
Mus. Bosbyschell regarded him with calm severity, and 
her icy silence made him feel uncomfortable. 

" Moggareck," he said, thickly, but with grave ear- 
nestness, " Moggareck " (Mrs. Bosbyschell's front name 



THE LOAD ON HIS MIND. 39 

is Margaret), " I've — hie — I've gotta— gotta quickened 
coshielsce." 

" A what ?" asked Mrs. Bosbyschell, in calm disdain. 

" A quickened coshience," repeated Mr. Bosbyschell. 
" A quickened coshiece. A — hie — I've got something 
enmy min', Moggart. I've gotta — hie — coffessiol — cod- 
fession — gotacofession t'make." 

" You can make it in the morning," she said, imperi- 
ously. " I am going to bed. You may sleep where you 
please, or, rather, where you can." 

" Naw," protested Mr. Bosbyschell, with much vehem- 
ence, " can't — can't — wait — hie — can't go t'sleep 'ith 
th'sload ommy — ommy mind. Got cofession t'make, 
an' mus' — mus' make it. Done suthin', Moggart — hie 
—been — been a — beena load ommy mind long time. 
Been — hie — carryin' guilty secret 'round 'ith me too 
long. Quickened coshience won' gimme — won' gimmy 
nope — hie — no peace. Mus' tell you sumpin', Moggart ; 
sumpin' '11 s'prise you. I've — " 

" Mercy on me, man !" exclaimed Mrs. Bosbyschell, 
startled from her composure, what have you been doing ? 
Tell me, quick ; tell me, for Heaven's sake !" 

" Moggart," said Mr. Bosbyschell, " it's sumthin' 
ye nev — hie — nevec suspec— suspected. It'll mos' kill 
ye. Hie! S'pec' it'll nigh drive me crazy. 'Sawful 
t' think 'bout it. Y' — y' wouldn't b'lieve it of me. 
Margart, y' — ye wouldn' I've been " 

" Speak !" shrieked the almost frantic woman. I'm 
w T ild with suspense ! Speak, tell me all, quick ! Oh, I 
could tear her eyes out ! Tell me, you brute, what is 
her name ? Who is she ?" 

"Wh— wh— hie! Who'sh who?" demanded Mr. 
Bosbyschell, in blank amazement. 



40 PEESONAL. 

" The woman, you wretch !" screamed his wife ; " who 
is the woman ?" 

" Oh, pshaw, Moggart," ejaculated Mr. Bosbyschell, 
" 'tain th — hie — that. Wussan that. 'Smore dreadful 
— hie. More crushin\ You — hie — y'won't hardly 
b'lieve it — hie — w'en tell ye. Moggart — " 

" Speak !" wailed the anxious woman, wringing her 
hands. " Speak ; let me know the worst ! What have 
you been doing ?" 

" Moggart/' said Mr. Bosbyschell, solemnly, and with 
the air of a man upon whom a quickened conscience 
had wrought its perfect work. " Margart," he said, 
nerving himself for the confession, " Margort, I've — hie 
— I\e been drinking !" — Burlington Hawkeye. 



PERSONAL. 



THE mercury lay in her bulb at morn, 
And cuddled and shivered and looked forlorn, 
Bemoaned her fate ; 
" O, a thing I be 
Of low degree ; 
I want to be big and I want to be tall, 
But daily I struggle and daily I fall, 
And I haven't succeeded this summer at all, 

For the highest I've got to was eighty -eight ! 
Oh ! sun, good sun, why cannot you shed 
Your rays more warmly upon the head 
Of a poor little mercury here in her bed, 
And help her to climb 
To a height sublime ?" 
'Twas thus the mercury sighed and plead, 



THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. 41 

And her way so won 
The heart of the sun 
He muttered : " I'll give to the maid awhile 
My most magnificent melting smile." 
And then, Great Scott ! 
But it got 
Hot! 
And the vain little mercury swelled with pride, 
And climbed until she reached a hundred-and-one, 
And cried in delight over what she had done : 
" I'm the bride 
Of the sun, 
And it's fun !" 

— Chicago Tribune. 



THE FLOOD AND THE AEK. 



A Hard-Shell Methodist sermon on nature. 

IN the autumn of 1830 I attended a Methodist camp- 
meeting in the interior of Georgia, and heard a 
sermon which I have never been able to forget or de- 
scribe. 

The speaker had just been licensed, and it was his 
first sermon. In person he was small, bullet-headed, of 
a fair, sandy complexion ; and his countenance was in- 
dicative of sincerity and honesty. He was taking up 
the Bible in regular order for the first time in his life, 
and had gotten as far as the history of Noah, the ark, 
the flood, etc. Besides, just before his conversion, he 
had been reading Goldsmith's " Animated Nater," and 
the two together, by the aid and assistance of the 



42 THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. 

Sperit, had led him into a powerful train of thinking 
as he stood at his work-bench, day in and day out. 
The text was : "As it was in the days of Noah, so shall 
the coming of the Son of Man be ;" and he broke out 
into the following strain : 

" Yes, my bretherin, the heavens of the windows was 
opened-ah, and the floods of the g-r-e-a-t deep kivered 
the waters-ah ; and there was Shem, and there was 
Ham, and there was Japhet-ah, a-l-l-a gwine into the 
ark-ah. 

" And there was the elephant-ah, that g-r-e-a-t ani- 
mal-ah of which Goldsmith describes in his ' Animated 
Nater'-ah, what is as big as a house-ah, and his bones 
as big as a tree-ah, depending somewhat upon the size 
of the tree-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. And the 
heavens of the windows was opened-ah, and the floods 
of the g-r-e-a-t deep kivered the waters-ah ; and there 
was Shem, and there was Ham, and there was Japhet- 
ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. 

" And there was the hippopotamus-ah, that g-r-e-a-t 
animal-ah, of which Goldsmith describes in his ' Ani- 
mated Nater'-ah, what has a g-r-e-a-t horn a-stickin' 
right straight up out of his forward-ah, six feet long, 
more or less-ah, depending somewhat on the length of 
it-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. 

" And there was the giraffe-ah, my bretherin, that ill- 
contrived reptile of which Goldsmith describes in his 
' Animated Nater'-ah, whose fore-legs is twenty-five feet 
long-ah, more or less-ah, depending somewhat on the 
length of 'em-ah, and a neck so long he can eat hay off 
the top of a barn-ah, depending somewhat on the hithe 
of the barn-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. And the 
heavens of the windows w 7 as opened-ah, and the floods 



THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. 43 

of the great deep kivered the waters-ah ; and there was 
Ham, and there was Shem, and there was Japhet-ah, 
a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. 

" And there was the zebra, my bretherin-ah, that 
b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-1 animal of which Goldsmith describes in 
his ' Animated Nater'-ah, what has three hundred 
stripes a-runnin' right straight around his body-ah, 
more or less-ah, depending somewhat on the number of 
stripes-ah, and nary two stripes alike-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine 
n into the ark-ah. 

" Then there was the anaconder-ah, that g-r-e-a-t sar- 
pint of which Goldsmith describes in his ' Animated 
Nater'-ah, what can swallow six oxens at a meal-ah, 
- provided his appetite don't call for less-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine 
into the ark-ah. And the heavens of the windows was 
opened-ah, and the floods of the great deep kivered the 
waters-ah ; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, 
and there was Japhet-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. 

" And there .was the lion, bretherin-ah, what is the 
king of beasts, accordin' to Scripter-ah, and who, as St. 
Paul says-ah, prowls around of a night like a roarin' 
devil-ah, a-seekin' if he can't catch somebody-ah, a-1-1 
a-gwine into the ark-ah. 

" And there was the antelope-ah, my bretherin, that 
frisky little critter-ah, of which Goldsmith describes in 
his ' Animated Nater'-ah, what can jump seventy-five 
foot straight up-ah, and twice that distance down-ah, 
provided his legs will take him that far-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine 
into the ark-ah. And the heavens of the windows was 
opened-ah, and the floods of the great deep kivered the 
waters-ah; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, 
and there was Japhet-ah, a-1-1 a-gwine into the ark-ah. 

" But time would fail me, my bretherin, to describe 



44 THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. 

all the animals that went into the ark-ah. Your pa- 
tience and my strength would give out before I got half 
through-ah. We talk, my bretherin, about the faith of 
Abraham and the patience of Job-ah ; but it strikes 
me they didn't go much ahead of old Noer-ah. ft tuck 
a right smart chance o' both to gather up all that 
gopher-wood, and pitch and other truck for to build 
that craft-ah./ I am a sort of carpenter myself, and 
have some idea of the job-ah. But to hammer and saw 
and maul and split away on that one thing a hundred 
and twenty year-ah, an' lookin' an' lookin' for his pay 
in another world-ah — I tell ye, my bretherin, if the 
Lord had a-sot Job at that, it's my opinion he would 
a-tuck his wife's advice inside of fifty year-ah. Be- 
sides, no doubt his righteous soul was vexed every day, 
hand runnin'-ah, with the filthy communications of the 
blasphemious set that was always a-loferin' and a-saun- 
terin' around-ah, a-pickin' up his tools and a-misplacin' 
'em, and a-callin' him an old fool or somethin' worse-ah. 
And, to clap the climax, he was a preacher, and had 
that ongodly gineration on his hands every Sunday-ah. 
But the Lord stood by him, and seed him through the 
job-ah ; and, when everything was ready, he didn't 
send Noer out to scrimmage an' scour and hunt all over 
the wide world for to git up the critters and varmints 
that he wanted saved-ah. They all came to his hand of 
their own accord-ah, and Noer only had to head 'em in 
and fix 'em around in their places-ah. Then he gath- 
ered up his own family, and the Lord shut him in, and 
the heavens of the windows was opened-ah. 

" But, my bretherin, Noer-ah had use for patience 
after this-ah. Think what a time he must a-had a- 
feedin' and a-waterin' and a-cleanin' out after sich a 



THE FLOOD AND THE ARK. 45 

crowd-ali ! Some of 'em, according to Goldsmith's 
1 Animated Nater'-ah, was carnivorious, and wanted fresh 
meat-ah ; and some was herbivorious, and wanted vege- 
table food-ah ; and some was wormivorious, and swal- 
lowed live things whole-ah ; and he had to feed every- 
thing accordin' to his nater. Hence we view, my breth- 
erin-ah, as the nater of the animals wasn't altered by goin' 
into the ark-ah, some of 'em would roar and howl and 
bark and bray and squeal and blat the whole indurin' 
night-ah, a-drivin' sleep from his eyes, and slumber from 
his eyelets-ah ; and at the first streak o' daylight the last 
hoof of 'em would set up a noise accordin' to his nater- 
ah, and the bulls of Bashan wer'n't now r har-ah. I've 
often wondered how their women .stood it. Scripter is 
silent on this pint-ah ; but I think I know of some that 
would a-been vapory and nervious under sich circum- 
stances-ah, and in an unguarded moment might a-said 
somethin' besides their prayers-ah. 

" My bretherin, one more word for old Noer-ah, and 
I will draw to a close-ah. After the out-beatin' time he 
had, first and last, for so many hundred year-ah, if he 
did, by accident or otherwise, take a leetle too much 
wine on one occasion-ah, I think less ort to a-been said 
about it-ah. Besides, I think he was entitled to one 
spree-ah, as he made the wine hisself ; and accordin' to 
Scripter, it makes glad the heart o' man-ah. 

" My bretherin, as it was in the days of Nber-ah, so 
shall the coming of the Son of Man be-ah. The world 
will never be drowned agin-ah. It will be sot a-fire, 
and burnt up, root and branch, w T ith a fervient heat-ah. 
Oh ! what will wretched, ondone sinners do on that 
orful day-ah ? They will be put to their wits' end-ah, 
and knock and straddle around in every direction-ah ; 



46 FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. 

for all at onct, my bretherin-ah, they will behold the 
heavens a-darkenin'-ah, and the seas a-roarin'-ah, the 
tombs a-bustin-ah, the mountains a-meltin'-ah ; and 
everything, I think, will be in a confused and onsettled 
state-ah." 



FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. 



DEAR Cousin John, — 
We got here safe — my worthy wife an' me — 
An' put up at James Sunnyhope's — a pleasant place to be ; 
An' Isabel, his oldest girl, is home from school just now, 
An' pets me with her manners all her young man will 

allow ; 
An' his good wife has monstrous sweet an' culinary 

ways : 
It is a summery place to pass a few cold winter days. 

Besides, I've various cast-iron friends in different parts 

o' town, 
That's always glad to have me call whenever I come 

• down ; 
But yesterday, when 'mongst the same I undertook to 

roam, 
I could not find a single one that seemed to be to home ! 
An' when I asked their whereabouts, the answer was, 

" I think, 
If you're a-goin' down that way, you'll find 'em at the 

Rink." 

I asked what night the Lyceum folks would hold their 

next debate 
(I've sometimes gone an' helped 'em wield the cares of 

church an' state) ; 



FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. 47 

An' if protracted meetin's now was holdin' anywhere 
(I like to get my soul fed up with fresh celestial fare) ; 
Or when the next church social was ; they'd give a 

knowin' wink, 
An' say, " I b'lieve there's no thin' now transpirin' but 

"the Kink." 

" What is this ' Kink ' ?" I innocent inquired, that night 

at tea. 
" Oh, you must go," said Isabel, " this very night with 

me! 
And Mrs. Stebbins, she must go, an' skate there with us, 

too!" 
My wife replied, " My dear, just please inform me when 

I do. 
But you two go." An' so we went ; an' saw a circus 

there, 
With which few sights I've ever struck will anyways 

compare. 

It seems a good-sized meetin'-house had given up its 

pews 
(The church an' pastor had resigned, from spiritual 

blues), 
An' several acres of the floor was made a skatin' ground, 
Where folks of every shape an' size went skippin' round 

and round ; 
An' in the midst a big brass band was helpin' on the fuh, 
An' everything was gay as sixteen weddin's joined in one. 

I've seen small insects crazy like go circlin' through the 

air, 
An' wondered if they thought some time they'd maybe 

get somewhere ; 



48 FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. 

IVe seen a million river bugs go scootin' round an' 

round, 
An' wondered what 'twas all about, or what they'd lost 

or found ; 
But men an' women, boys an' girls, upon a hard- wood 

floor, 
All whirlm' round like folks possessed, I never saw 

before. 

An' then it all came back to me, the things I'd read an' 

heard 
About the rinks, an' how their ways was wicked an' 

absurd : 
I'd learned somewhere that skatin' wasn't a healthy 

thing to do ; 
But there was Doctor Saddlebags — his fam'ly with him, 

too. 
I'd heard that 'twasn't a proper place for Christian folks 

to seek ; 
Old Deacon Perseverance Jinks flew past me like a 

streak. 

Then Sister Is'bel Sunnyhopes put on a pair o' skates, 
An' started off as if she'd run through several different 

States. 
My goodness ! how that gal showed up ! I never did 

opine 
That she could twist herself to look so charmin' an' so 

fine; 
And then a fellow that she knew took hold o' hands 

with her, 
A sort o' double crossways like, an' helped her, as it 

were. 



FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. 49 

I used to skate ; an' 'twas a sport of which I once was 

fond. 
Why, I could write my autograph on Tompkins' saw T - 

mill pond. 
Of course, to slip on runners, that is one thing, one may 

say, 
An' movin' round on casters is a somewhat different 

way; 
But when the fun that fellow had came flashin' to my 

eye, 
I says, " I'm young again ; by George, I'll skate once 

more or die !" 

A little boy a pair o' skates to fit my boots soon found — 
He had to put 'em on for me (I weigh three hundred 

pound) ; 
An' then I straightened up, an' says. " Look here, you 

younger chaps, 
You think you're runnin' some'at past us older heads, 

perhaps. 
If this young lady here to me will trust awhile her fate, 
I'll go around a dozen times, an' show you how to skate." 

She was a niceish, plump young gal, I'd noticed quite 
awhile, 

An' she reached out her hands with 'most too daugh- 
terly a smile ; 

But off we pushed, with might an' main — when all to 
once the wheels 

Departed suddenly above, an' took along my heels ; 

My head assailed the floor, as if 'twas tryin' to get 
through, 

An' all the stars I ever saw arrived at once in view. 
4 



50 FARMER STEBBINS ON ROLLERS. 

'Twas sing'lar (as not quite unlike a saw-log there I lay) 
How many of the other folks was goin' that same w T ay ; 
They stumbled over me in one large animated heap, 
An' formed a pile o' legs an' arms not far from ten 

foot deep ; 
But after they had all climbed off, in rather fierce sur- 
prise, 
I lay there like a saw-log still — considerin' how to rise. 

Then dignified I rose, with hands upon my ample waist, 
An' then sat down again with large and very painful 

haste ; 
An' rose again, and started off to find a place to rest, 
Then on my gentle stomach stood, an' tore my meetin' 

vest ; 
When Sister Sunnyhopes slid up, as trim as trim could be, 
An' she an' her young fellow took compassionate charge 

o' me. 

Then after I'd got off the skates, an' flung 'em out o' reach, 
I rose, while all grew hushed an' still, an' made the fol- 

lowin' speech : 
" My friends, I've struck a small idea (an' struck it 

pretty square), 
Which physic'lly an' morally, will some attention bear : 
Those who their balance can preserve are safe here any 

day; 
An' those who can't, I rather think, had better keep 

away." 

Then I limped out, with very strong, unprecedented 
pains, 

An' hired a horse at liberal rates to draw home my re- 
mains ; 



THE BOY'S STORY. 51 

An* lay abed three days, while wife laughed at an' 

nursed me well, 
An' used up all the arnica two drug-stores had to sell ; 
An' when Miss Is'bel Sunnyhopes said, " Won't you 

skate once more ?" 
I answered, " Not while I remain on this terrestrial 

shore." Will Carleton. 



THE BOY'S STOKY. 



I'M a boy. I'm not so big as some folks, but I've got 
eyes, an' they see things, an' I've got ears, an' they 
hear things, an' I aint a fool, an' don't know nuthin', 
if 'Lisbuth — she's my big sister — does say so when she 
gits mad an' has tantrums. Her say in' so don't make it 
so, I reckon. I don't like 'Lisbuth, cos she snaps my 
ears awful, sometimes ; an' folks what snaps boys' ears 
hadn't ought to have nobody like 'em. They're too 
mean for anything, that's what they be. 

" Never you mind," I've said to 'Lisbuth more'n once 
when she'd been a snappin' me, " I'll pay ye off some 
day, an' don't you forgit it." Then she'd up an' snap 
me agin, cos I was sassy, she said. I kep' my word, jest 
as I said I would. I paid her off fer all her snappin', 
an' I'll bet she wishes she'd ben a little pleasanter. I 
s'pose I've got lots o' snappin' to stan' yet, but when I 
think how mad she was, it tickles me so I can stan' 
a good, big snappin' 'thout feelin' it much. My ! but 
wa'n't she jest hoppin', tho' ? Oh, no ! I guess not ! 

You see,- 'Lisbuth, she had a bo. She gits lots 
o' 'em, cos she's good lookin', an' kind o' smooth like. 
Her han's look nice to the bos, with rings on 'em, cos 



52 the boy's story. 

they don't feel 'em a snappin' their ears. Once she 
snapped my ears, an' then she slapped 'em, an' her big 
ring, it hurt awful, an', says I, " What d'ye keep yer 
han's so still fer when bos come ? Why don't ye snap 
my ears then ? Nex' time one comes, I'll up an' make 
faces at you, so you'll snap me, an' show 'em how smart 
you be with yer fingers. They think yer a angel, but 
that's cos they don't know nothin' 'bout it." So the 
nex' time her bo came I went down-stairs, an' got right 
up afore 'Lisbuth, an' I made faces at her awful, an' she 
jest sot an' laffed, an' sez, "What a redicklus boy." 
" Why don't yer snap me?" sez I. " I would like to," 
sez she, kinder low, so her feller shouldn't hear, an' then 
mother she come in, an' I dassant behave to 'Lisbuth 
no more after that. 

Sophy — she's my 'tother sister — she had a bo, too, an' 
she liked him lots. I liked him, too, cos he gives me 
things, an' he wasn't alius a lookin' jest as if he thought 
boys hadn't no bisness to be round when our folks 
wasn't' in sight. Some fellers, they'd be awful clever 
when they thought ma or pa see 'em, but if they didn't, 
they'd be cross as two sticks, an' jerk their canes away 
from me, and say they wisht I'd mind my bisness, and 
grumble like fury 'bout everything I did. I always 
paid 'em off for being mean, but Henry, he wan't so. 
He'd let me wear his hat, an' once he helped me play 
horse, an' he kicked me, an' I sed I didn't call that fun, 
cos it hurt, but he said that was all right, cos that was 
what horses kicked for, an' I sed I wouldn't play horse 
that way. An' he laffed, but I didn't. 

Henry, he liked Sophy, an' they sit an' look at each 
other jest as ef they'd like to swaller each other. I 
seen 'em, cos I lookt through a crack in the door. An' 



the boy's story. 53 

once I heerd a smackin', an sez I, all to wonst through 
the keyhole, " What's that I heerd ?" an' then I opened 
the door an' lookt at 'em ; an' Henry, he was red, an' 
Sophy, she was red, too, an' they weren't near'n ten feet 
of each other. They thought they'd fool me, but they 
didn't a mite. He'd been a kissin' her, an' I know it. 
If Sophy had been like 'Lisbuth, she'd a .snapped me 
when her bo was gone, but Sophy, she ain't that kind. I 
like her tip-top. She's got some feelin' fer boys, but 
that old 'Lisbuth, she haint. 

'Lisbuth, she up an' took a fancy to Sophy's feller, 
an' she jest did her level best to git him away. She'd 
smile at him as sweet -as sugar, an' she'd make him sing 
while she played on the pianner, an' she jest went for 
him heavy. But she wouldn't made out nothin' if she 
hadn't got Sophy to send him a valentine. It was a 
real ridiclus one, an' it made him mad, cos 'Lisbuth, 
mean old thing, she went an' made him think Sophy 
was mad with him, an' wanted to let him know that her 
heart wa'n't his'n no more. An' so 'Lisbuth, she fooled 
him, an' he come to see her, an' he'd be awful cool 
to Sophy, an' byme-by she got so she'd git up an' go 
right out of the room when she see him a comin'. 

" Don't you like Sophy no more ?" sez I to him one 
day, an' he got awful red, an' 'Lisbuth, she was mad, an' 
she got right up an' grabbed me by the arm, an' when 
she got me into the hall, she snapped my ears that hard 
that I couldn't stan' it, an' I tread on her foot, which 
has got a corn, an' she sez, " Oh !" as ef it hurt her 
awful, an' scrooched right down. " I'm glad of it," sez 
I. " My ears has got as much feelin's in 'em as your 
corns has," an' I sed it up loud, so he could hear. Then 
I jerked an' ran off. I went up to Sophy's room, an' 



54 the boy's story. 

told her how 'Lisbuth had been snappin' me, an' she 
said it was too bad, an' put arniky on my ears. It made 
'em smart awful, but they didn't get sore much. Arniky 
stops them from gittin' sore after they've been snapt. 

" What had you been doin' to 'Lisbuth ?" asked 
Sophy. 

" Nothin'," sez I, " only I asked him if he didn't like 
you no more." Then Sophy, she set still a minnit, an' 
then she begun to cry. " No, he don't like me any 
more," seys she, jest as if I wasn't there. " Why was 
I fool enough to send him that old valentine, jest cos 
'Lisbuth, she dared me to?" Then she dropped her 
head onto the table an' cried an* sniveled awful, an' 
I see how 'twas, if I wa'n't big, an' I jest made up my 
mind I'd come it over that snappin' old 'Lisbuth. So I 
went down, an' set on the fence, an' when Henry came 
along I sez, " Sophy, she's awful sorry she sent that val- 
entine, an' she wouldn't if 'Lisbuth hadn't dared her to, 
an' she ain't mad with you, cos she's up-stairs cryin' 
'bout it now. It's all that old 'Lisbuth, an' she's pul- 
lin' wool over your eyes, makin' b'leeve she's so good an' 
nice. Jest feel o' my ears, an' see how sore they be 
where she snapped 'em. She haint no more feelin's 
than a camel." An', sez he, all of a twitter, " Be you 
sure Sophy haint mad with me?" An', sez I, "Of 
course I be. She jest the same's sed so, when she was a 
puttin' on the arniky." An' sez he, " I wisht I could 
see her." An' sez I, " She's goin' to walk in the park 
this afternoon." An' sez he, "I'll be there, but don't 
you tell her, or maybe she wouldn't come," an' he gave 
me two shillin's, an' I bo't some lick'rish an' some gum, 
an' a hull lot o' candy. 

The nex' day Sophy, she went a walkin' in the park, 



tiie boy's story. 55 

an' Henry, he come, an' she got pale ; but he sed some- 
thing an' she wa'n't pale no more, only red, an' they 
went off, an' I had a good time a plaguin' the geese on 
the pond. Jimmy Jones an' me, we tied a cracker onto 
a string, an' throwed it to the goose, an' he up an' swal- 
lered it like a hog, an' we pulled on the string, and 
dragged him right up to the shore. An' Jimmy, he sed 
the goose couldn't let up on the cracker, cos 'twas 
hitched agin his gizzard. Gooses has their gizzards up 
in their throats, cos they make their vittels taste good. 

When Sophy an' Henry came back, they lookt awful 
happy, an' he kist me, an' sed I was goin' to be his 
littel brother, an' I askt Sophy if that was so, an' she 
said she s' posed it was, an' as how mebbe 'twouldn't a 
ben so ef it hadn't ben for me, an' then she kist me, an' 
he kist her, an' I sed I'd run home, cos I wanted to tell 
'Lisbuth, an' I got sick o' so much kissin'. 'Lisbuth, 
she was in the parlor, an' I went in an' I sed, "I'm a 
goin' to have a new brother ;" an' she sez, " What on 
earth does the young one mean now ?" An' I sez, " It's 
Henry ; he an' Sophy's made up, an' they wouldn't if 
it hadn't been for me, an' I told him how you snapped 
me, an' he gave me two shillin's." Then she lookt out, 
an' see Henry an' Sophy a comin' up the path awful 
lovin', a try in' as if they was goin' to crowd each other 
off 'n the walk, they was that clost. An' she was jest 
bilin', she was so mad. " You little wretch," she said, 
an' she grabbed me, an' she snapped me the worst I 
ever see, an' my ears, they swelled up awful, and was 
black and blue. But I didn't care so much, cos it did 
me good to see her so mad. I laffed once, an' I would 
more, if she hadn't snapped so. 

Jimmy Jones, he read in a book 'bout a man, he was 



56 SPOOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. 

a traveling an' a worm, he kep' a gittin' in his way, an' 
byme-by the man, he stept on him, an' the worm, sez 
he, " Look here, now, don't you do that agin." But the 
man, he did, an' the worm up an' bit him, an' the man 
swelled up an' died. That was the way with me an' 
'Lisbuth. 

Boys can't stan' everything. Folks haint no bisness 
to snap their ears cos they're big. I'll bet she wishes 
as how she hadn't snapped me so much now. I know 
somethin' more 'bout her, an' I'll tell of it, if she snaps 
me agin, see if I don't. E. E. Eexford. 



SPOOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. 



" "]\/r Y dear," said Mr. Spoopendyke, rumpling his hair 
JJJL around over his head and gazing at himself in 
the glass, " my dear, do you know I think I smoke too 
much ? It doesn't agree with me." 

" Just what I have always thought !" chimed Mrs. 
Spoopendyke, " and besides, it makes the room smell so. 
You know this room " 

" I'm not talking about the room," retorted Mr. 
Spoopendyke, with a snort. " I'm not aware that it 
affects the health of the room. I'm talking about my 
health this trip, and I think I'll break off short. You 
don't catch me smoking any more," and Mr. Spoopen- 
dyke yawned and stretched himself, and plumped down 
in his easy chair, and glared out the window at the rain. ' 

" How are you going to break off?" inquired Mrs. 
Spoopendyke, drawing up her sewing -chair, and gazing 
up into her husband's face admiringly. " I suppose 
the best way is not to think of it at all." 



SPOOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. 57 

"The best way is for you to sit there and cackle 
about it !" growled Mr. Spoopendyke. " If anything 
will distract my attention from it that will. Can't ye 
think of something else to talk about ? Don't ye know 
some subjects that don't smell like a tobacco planta- 
tion ?" 

" Certainly," cooed Mrs. Spoopendyke, rather non- 
plussed. " We might talk about the rain. I suppose 
this is really the equinox. How long will it last, dear ?" 

"Gast the equinox!" sputtered Mr. Spoopendyke. 
" Don't you know that w T hen a man quits smoking it 
depresses him ? What d'ye want to talk about depress- 
ing things for ? Now t 's the time to make me cheerful. 
If ye don't know any cheerful things, keep quiet." 

" Of course," assented Mrs. Spoopendyke, " you want 
subjects that will draw your mind away from the habit 
of smoking like you used to. Won't it be nice when 
the long winter evenings come, and the fire is lighted, 
and you have your slippers and paper " 

" That's just the time I want a cigar !" roared Mr. 
Spoopendyke, bounding around in his chair and scowl- 
ing at his wife. " Aint ye got sense enough to shingle 
your tongue for a minute ? The way you're keeping it 
up you'll drive me back to my habit in less'n an hour," 
he continued, solemnly, " and then my blood will be on 
your head !" 

"Oh, dear!" sighed Mrs. Spoopendyke, "I didn't 
mean to. Did you notice about the comet ? They say 
it is going to drop into the sun and burn up " 

" There ye go again !" yelled Mr. Spoopendyke. 
" You can't open your mouth without suggesting some- 
thing that breaks me down ! What d'ye want to talk 
about fire for? Who wants fire when he's stopped 



58 SPOOPENDYKE STOPS SMOKING. 

smoking ? Two minutes more and I'll have a pipe in 
my mouth !" and Mr. Spoopendyke groaned dismally in 
contemplation of the prospect. 

" I'm glad you're going to stay at home to-day," con- 
tinued Mrs. Spoopendyke, soothingly. " You'd be sure 
to catch cold if you went out ; and by and by we'll 
have a piping hot dinner " 

" That's it !" squealed Mr. Spoopendyke, bounding 
out of his chair and plunging around the room. " You'd 
got to say something about a pipe ! I knew how it 
wxmld be ! You want me to die ! You want me to 
smoke myself into an early grave ! You'll fetch it ! 
Don't give yourself any uneasiness ! You're on the 
track !" and Mr. Spoopendyke buried his face in his 
hands and shook convulsively. 

" I meant it for the best, my dear," murmured Mrs. 
Spoopendyke. " I thought I was drawing " 

" That's it !" ripped Mr. Spoopendyke. " Drawing ! 
You've driven me to it instead of keeping me from it. 
You know how it's done ! All you need now is a light- 
ning rod and a dish of milk toast to be an inebriates' 
home ! Where's that cigar I left here on the mantel ? 
Gimme my death warrant ! Show me my imported 
doom ! Drag forth my miniature coffin !" and Mr. 
Spoopendyke swept the contents of the shelf upon the 
floor and howled dismally. 

" Isn't that it ?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke, point- 
ing to a small pile of snuff on the chair in W'hich 
Mr. Spodpendyke had been sitting. " That looks 
like it." 

" Wah !" yelled Mr. Spoopendyke, grasping his hat 
and making for the door. " Another time I swear off 
you go into the country, you hear ?" and Mr. Spoopen- 



WHAT THE CHOIR SANG. 59 

dyke dashed out of the house and steered for the nearest 
tobacco shop. 

" I don't care," muttered Mrs. Spoopendyke ; " when 
he swears off again I'm willing to leave, and in the 
meantime I suppose hell be healthier without his pipe, 
so I'll hang it up on the wall where he'll never think of 
looking for it," and having consigned the tobacco to 
the flames, Mrs. Spoopendyke gathered her sewing 
materials around her and double clinched an old resolu- 
tion never to lose her temper, no matter what happened. 
— Brooklyn Eagle. 



WHAT THE CHOIR SANG ABOUT THE NEW 
BONNET. 



A FOOLISH little maiden bought a foolish little 
bonnet, 
With a ribbon, and a feather, and a bit of lace upon 

it; 
And that the other maidens of the little town might 

know it, 
She thought she'd go to meeting the next Sunday just 
to show it. 

But though the little bonnet was scarce larger than a 

dime, 
The getting of it settled proved to be a work of 

time ; 
So when 'twas fairly tied, all the bells had stopped their 

ringing, 
And when she came to meeting, sure enough the folks 



60 WHAT THE CHOIR SANG. 

So this foolish little maiden stood and waited at the 

door; 
And she shook her ruffles out behind and smoothed 

them down before. 
" Hallelujah ! hallelujah !" sang the choir above her 

head. 
" Hardly knew you ! hardly knew you !" were the 

words she thought they said. 

This made the little maiden feel so very, very cross, 
That she gave her little mouth a twist, her little head a 

toss ; 
For she thought the very hymn they sang was all about 

her bonnet, 
With the ribbon, and the feather, and the bit of lace 

upon it. 

And she would not wait to listen to the sermon or the 

prayer, 
But pattered down the silent street, and hurried up the 

stair, 
Till she reached her little bureau, and in a band-box on 

it, 
Had hidden, safe from critics' eye, her foolish little 

bonnet. 

Which proves, my little maidens, that each of you will 

find 
In every Sabbath service but an echo of your mind ; 
And the silly little head, that's filled with silly little 

airs, 
Will never get a blessing from sermon or from prayers. 

M. T. Morrison. 



THE MINISTER'S GRIEVANCES. 61 

THE MINISTER'S GRIEVANCES. 



"T3RETHREN," said the aged minister, as he stood 
-L) up before the church meeting on New Year's 
Eve, " I am afraid we will have to part. I have labored 
among you now for fifteen years, and I feel that that is 
almost enough, under the peculiar circumstances in 
which I am placed. Not that I am exactly dissatisfied ; 
but a clergyman who has been preaching to sinners for 
fifteen years for five hundred dollars a year, naturally 
feels that he is not doing a great work when Deacon 
Jones, acting as an officer of the church, pays his last 
quarter's salary in a promissory note at six months, and 
then, acting as an individual, offers to discount it for 
him at ten per cent, if he will take it part out in clover- 
seed and pumpkins. 

" I feel somehow as if it would take about eighty- 
four years of severe preaching to prepare the Deacon 
for existence in a felicitous hereafter. Let me say, 
also, that while I am deeply grateful to the congrega- 
tion for the donation party they gave me on Christmas, 
I have calculated that it would be far more profitable 
for me to shut my house and take to the woods than 
endure another one. I will not refer to the impulsive 
generosity which persuaded Sister Potter to come with 
a present of eight clothes pins ; I will not insinuate 
anything against Brother Ferguson, who brought with 
him a quarter of a peck of dried apples of the crop of 
1872 ; I shall not allude to the benevolence of Sister 
Tynhirst, who came with a pen wiper and a tin horse 
for the baby; I shall refrain from commenting upon 
the impression made by Brother Hill, who brought four 



62 the minister's grievances. 

phosphorescent mackerel, possibly with an idea that 
they might be useful in dissipating the gloom in my 
cellar. I omit reference to Deacon Jones' present of an 
elbow of stove-pipe and a bundle of toothpicks, and I 
admit that when Sister Peabody brought me sweetened 
sausage meat, and salted and peppered mince-meat for 
pies, she did right in not forcing her own family to suf- 
fer from her mistake in mixing the material. But I do 
think I may fairly remark respecting the case of Sister 
Walsingham, that after careful thought I am unable to 
perceive how she considered that a present of a box of 
hair-pins to my w T ife justified her in consuming half of a 
pumpkin pie, six buttered muffins, two platefuls of oys- 
ters, and a large variety of miscellaneous food, previous 
to jamming herself full of preserves, and proceeding to 
the parlor to join in singing ' There is rest for the weary V 
Such a destruction of the necessaries of life doubtless 
contributes admirably to the stimulation of commerce, 
but it is far too large a commercial operation to rest 
solely upon the basis of a ten-cent box of hair-pins. 

" As for matters in the church, I do not care to dis- 
cuss them at length. I might say much about the 
manner in which the congregation w r ere asked to con- 
tribute clothing to our mission in Senegambia ; we 
received nothing but four neck-ties and a brass breast- 
pin, excepting a second-hand carriage-whip that Deacon 
Jones gave us. I might allude to the frivolous manner 
in which Brother Atkinson, our tenor, converses with 
Sister Priestly, our soprano, during my sermons, and 
last Sunday kissed her when he thought I was not look- 
ing ; I might allude to the absent-mindedness which 
has permitted Brother Brown twice lately to put half a 
dollar on the collection-plate and take off two quarters 



ENGAGED. 63 

and a ten-cent piece in change ; and I might dwell upon 
the circumstance that while Brother Toombs, the under- 
taker, sings ' I would not live always/ with professional 
enthusiasm that is pardonable, I do not see w r hy he 
should throw such unction into the hymn, ' I am un- 
worthy though I give my all/ when he is in arrears for 
two years' pew-rent, and is always busy examining the 
carpet-pattern when the plate goes round. I also — " 

Bat here Butler Toombs turned off the gas suddenly, 
and the meeting adjourned full of indignation at the 
good pastor. His resignation was accepted unanimously. 

Max Adeler. 



ENGAGED. 



I'VE sat at her feet by the hour 
In the properly worshipful way ; 
I've carried her many a flower ; 
I've read to her many a lay ; 
Social battles with friend and with lover 

For her sake I often have waged ; 
And now, from her lips, I discover 
That she — oh ! that she is engaged. 

One season we led in the German, 

And one we were partners at whist, 
On Sundays we heard the same sermon, 

The opera never once missed ; 
We were generally winners at tennis, 

Our skill at the target was gauged, 
But a difference between now and then is, 

For now she — for now she's engaged. 



64 ENGAGED. 

I have carried a parasol o'er her, 

When we strolled in the deep-shaded grove, 
Whole minutes I've dallied before her, 

Assisting to button her glove ; 
As she sprang to the saddle my fingers 

Her wee foot a moment have caged, 
And the thrill in my pulses still lingers 

Though now she — though now she's engaged. 

Does she ever live over, I wonder, 

The night that we sat in the cove, 
One shawl wrapped about us, while thunder 

And windstorms and hail raged above ? 
How, trembling, she hid her white face on 

My shoulder, and how I assuaged 
Her fears by the story of Jason — 

Does she think of all that when engaged? 

On my walls hang her many mementos ; 

That cathedral she sketched me in Kome; 
It was after my camp-life she sent those 

Silk slippers to welcome me home ; 
I've the letters she wrote me at college 

In a book all assorted and paged — 
How delightful to read with the knowledge 

That now she — yes — now she's engaged. 

I am going to call there to-morrow ; 

In her joy she will greet her old friend 
Without even a shadow of sorrow 

That the friendship has come to an end ; 
And close in my arms I will fold her, 

No matter for papa enraged, 
Shall his wrath from me longer withhold her 

When to me — 'tis to me she's engaged ? 



MRS. MIDDLERIB'S LETTER. 65 

MRS. MIDDLERIB'S LETTER. 



The usual way in which a woman exasperates her loving and long- 
suffering husband. 

"R. MIDDLERIB paused with his coffee-cup raised 
half way to his lips, as his wife took the letter 
from the servant. She turned it over once or twice, 
gazed earnestly at the address, and said : 

" I wonder who it can be from?" 

She looked at the stamp, but the picture of the good 
George Washington, his visage sadly marred by the 
rude impress of the canceling stamp, made no sign. 

" I can't make out the postmark," Mrs. Middlerib 
said, carefully studying that guide to the authorship of 
letters. " It isn't Perryville ; it looks something like 
Tonawanda, but I don't know anybody in Tona- 
wanda. I wonder if it isn't intended for York? 
Cousin Hiley Ann Jackson used to visit in York. Why 
don't they make the postmarks plainer, I wonder ? I 
believe it's Indianapolis, after all. Then it's from 
Eleanor McPherson, whose husband you met last sum- 
mer in Canada. It isn't Indianapolis, it's Lacon ; that's 
where Silas Marshall lives. That isn't an L, either. 
No, it's New Philadelphia, 111. ; I can make it out now ; 
don't you remember ! Uncle Abner Beasix went out 
there in the grindstone business. I wonder if anything 
has — oh, pshaw ! it isn't New Philadelphia, either, it's — 
what is it ? It's R ; R-o-m — oh, now I see, R-o-m-e, 
Rome. Why it must be from — oh dear me, it isn't 
Rome, either. I can't make it out at all." 

And she turned it over and looked mournfully at the 
receiving stamp on the back. 
5 



66 MRS. middlerib's. letter. 

" It was received here at seven o'clock this morning," 
she said, finally. " Now, where would a letter have to 
come from to get here at seven o'clock ? If you knew 
that, we could tell where it came from." 

" Let me look at it," said Mr. Middlerib, who was 
beginning to fidget with impatience. 

** No," replied his wife, turning back to the postmark 
once more. " I can see what it is now. It's Spartans- 
burg, Ky. Sarah Blanchard went there after she mar- 
ried. I expect she wants to — it isn't Spartansburg, 
either, it's Gridley; that's where cousin Jennie Bus- 
kirk lives ; her husband went there and bought a grist- 
mill. I wonder if she's coming out this summer? I 
hope if she does she won't bring the children. But it 
isn't from her, either. I think that it is Mount Pleasant. 
Oh! It's from Aunt Harriet Murdock, and I know 
they've all been killed, and that dreadful cyclone ! I 
can't open the letter, my hand trembles so. Do you 
know, the last thing I said to her when she moved out 
West, I said — it isn't Mount Pleasant, either, there are 
only five letters in it. I can't make anything out of 
it." 

" Perhaps," said Mr. Middlerib, with a slight tinge of 
sarcasm in his inflection, "perhaps we'd better send 
after the carrier who brought it. He may know." 

" But it is so tantalizing," complained Mrs. Middle- 
rib, " to receive a letter, and then not be able to tell 
who or where it is from." 

" Did you ever try opening a letter to ascertain those 
facts ?" asked her husband. 

The lady looked at him with an expression of speech- 
less disdain upon her features, and half whispered, " If 
that isn't like a man," as though any woman ever 



MRS. MIDDLERIB'S LETTER. 67 

looked into a letter until she had guessed all around 
her circle of relatives and friends and clear through 
the United States postal guide, to decide whence and 
from whom it came. 

This particular postmark, however, was too " blind " 
for the most ingenious expert to decipher, and at last, 
with a deep sigh and a little gesture of despair, Mrs. 
Middlerib yielded to the inevitable, and resignedly 
opened the letter, pausing once or twice in the act, how- 
ever, to look longingly back at the tantalizing post- 
mark. 

" At last," groaned her husband, w T ho by this time 
was burning up with curiosity. 

But she laid aside the envelope and looked at it a 
little while before she turned to the unfolded letter in 
her hand. Her husband, by a desperate effort, controlled 
his rising wrath, and, in a voice hoarse and strained, 
besought her to read the letter, as it was late and he 
should have been down town half an hour ago. 

She did not answer. She opened the letter, turned 
the first page to look for the end of it, went back to the 
first page, settled herself in an easy position, and said : 

" Well, I will declare P 

Then she read on in silence, and Mr. Middlerib 
ground his teeth. Presently she said : 

"H'm." 

She read three or four more lines with eager eyes and 
noiseless lips, and suddenly exclaimed : 

"I don't believe it!" 

Then she resumed her voiceless perusal of the docu- 
ment, and a moment later astonished her husband by 
looking up at him and asking: 

" I wonder if that is so ?" 



68 MRS. middlerib's letter. 

Mr. Middlerib replied in mocking tones that it must 
be or the postmark wouldn't have said so, but her eyes 
were glued to the page once more, and she made no 
response. 

" Oh !" she fairly shrieked, " did you ever?" 

The writhing man at the other end of the table said 
he never had, but he would if this intellectual enter- 
tainment lasted much longer. 

" It's too bad," murmured Mrs. Middlerib, turning a 
page of the letter without raising her eyes. 

" Well, what's too bad ?" he broke out wrathfully. 
" Who is the letter from and what is it all about ? 
Either read aloud or make your comments as mentally 
as you read." 

" I've half a mind to go," she said, in firm, decided 
tones. 

" Oh, have you ?" he interjected, with mild sarcasm, 
" shall I go pack your trunks while you finish that 
letter?" 

"I don't see how they can do it," she said, after an 
interval of silence. 

" Why don't you look at the postmark, then ?" he 
growled, " maybe that would tell you." 

She read on, silent and unimpressed, for two or three 
lines further, and then with an exclamation of astonish- 
ment, said : 

" How very low !" 

" Ah, well," her husband snarled, " I'm glad to learn 
something about that letter at last. It's about your 
Uncle Marcus's family, isn't it ?" 

She did not hear nor heed. She glued her eyes to 
that precious letter, and went on ejaculating at irregular 
intervals : 



MRS. MIDDLERIB's LETTER. 69 

" H'm." 

" Oh, that must be lovely »" 

" It can't be the same." 

M I never heard of such a thing." 

" Oh, my goodness !" 

Until her husband was fairly frantic with curiosity. 
Finally she concluded the perusal of the important 
document, sighed, and with profound and exasperating 
deliberation folded it carefully and replaced it in the 
envelope. 

Mr. Middlerib looked at her in blank amazement. 

" Well, by George !" he said, " you are a cool one. 
Here I've waited full fifteen minutes to learn what that 
blessed letter is about, and all I know about it is that 
you couldn't make out the postmark. By George, 
woman " 

" Why, whatever is the matter with you ?" she ex- 
claimed, with feigned surprise. " Here it is, if you 
want to see it. I didn't suppose you cared to hear it." 

" Didn't want to hear it ?" he shouted. " What do 
you suppose I waited here and missed my train for, if I 
didn't want to hear that blessed letter ?" 

" Why, it isn't a letter at all," she said, in the tone 
of a superior being commiserating measureless and in- 
excusable ignorance ; " it is a circular from Wachen- 
heimer's about their millinery opening next Thurs- 
day " 

The bang of the street door cut off the rest of the 
sentence, and Mrs. Middlerib Hecame aware that she 
was alone, and that her husband was the angriest man 
in the State. 

" And what had occurred to vex him," she said to 
her neighbor, who dropped in during the morning, " I 



70 WHY HE WAITED TO LAUGH. 

can't for the life of me imagine. Everything about the 
house had gone on smoothly, and I can't recall a single 
irritating incident or circumstance. Men are strange 
animals," she sighed, " and there is no accounting for 
their vagaries and peculiarities." — Burlington Hawkeye. 



POLONIUS TO LAERTES.—" RENEWED." 

SHAKEY, take a fader's plessing, 
Take it, for you get it sheap • 
Go in hot for magin' money, 

Go in und mage a heap. 
Don' you do no tings vots grooked, 

Don' you do no tings vots mean — 
Aber, rake right in dot boodle, 
Qviet, calm, und all serene. 

Don' you lend your gash to no von — 

Not for less dan den per cend ; 
Don' you make no vild oxpenses, 

Dot's de vay de money vent, 
Und I tells you, leedle Shakey, 

Put dis varning in your ear, 
Be a man of pizness honor, 

Nefer vale but tvice a year. 



WHY HE WAITED TO LAUGH. 



AT mid-forenoon yesterday, a man who was crossing 
Woodward Avenue at Congress Street suddenly 
began to paw the air with his hands and perform strange 
antics with his feet, and, after taking plenty of time about 
it, he came down in a heap. More than fifty people 



WnY HE WAITED TO LAUGH. 71 

saw the performance and there was a general laugh. It 
had not ceased when a man with a funereal countenance 
pushed his way into the crowd and asked : 

" Who is he — what's his name ?" 

" It's Smith," answered a voice. 

"What Smith?" 

" Thomas Smith." 

"Sure?" 

" Yes ; I've known him for over twenty years." 

" Then 111 laugh," said the solemn-faced man, and he 
leaned against the wall and chuckled and laughed until 
he could hardly get his breath. One of the crowd re- 
marked on his singular conduct, and the laugher 
wiped the tears from his eyes and replied : 

" Gentlemen, nothing tickles me all over so much as 
to see a man fall down. Ten years ago I was salesman 
in a wholesale house, with a fine chance for promotion. 
One day a man just ahead of me fell down, and I 
laughed. It was our old man, and he discharged me on 
the spot. Five years later I was engaged to a rich girl. 
As I came out of the post-office one day a man sprawled 
out on the walk, and I laughed till I was sore. It was 
my Angelina's old man, and he broke up the match. 
Again, I laughed myself out of a position in a bank, 
and but for the same failure I should to-day have a 
place in the Custom-House. I have learned wisdom. 
Now, when I see a man fall I ask his name, and find 
out if he has any influence to put me out of my clerk- 
ship. If he has, I look solemn and pass on. If he 
hasn't, I la-laugh — ha ! ha ! ha ! Smith, is it ? Smith 
can't do any harm, and — ha ! ha ! ha ! I wouldn't 
have missed this for a month's sal — ha ! ha ! ha !" — 
Detroit Free Press, 



72 A SCHOOL-DAY. 



A SCHOOL-DAY. 



"TVTOW John," the district teacher says, 

-L ^ With frown that scarce can hide 
The dimpling smiles around her mouth, 

Where Cupid's hosts abide, 
" What have you done to Mary Ann, 

That she is crying so ? 
Don't say 'twas ' nothing f — don't, I say, 

For John that can't be so ; 

" For Mary Ann would never cry 

At nothing, I am sure ; 
And if you've wounded justice, John, 

You know the only cure 
Is punishment ; so come, stand up ; 

Transgression must abide 
The pain attendant on the scheme 

That makes it justified." 

So John steps forth, with sunburnt face, 

And hair all in a tumble, 
Jlis laughing eyes a contrast to 

His drooping mouth so humble. 
f* Now Mary, you must tell me all — 

I see that John will not — 
And if he's been unkind or rude, 

I'll whip him on the spot." 

" W-we were p-playing p-prisoner's b-base, 

An' h-he is s-such a t-tease, 
An' w-when I w- wasn't 1-lookin', m-ma'am, 

H-he k-kissed me, if you please." 



A SCHOOL-DAY. 73 

Upon the teacher's face the smiles 

Have triumphed o'er the frown, 
A pleasant thought runs through her mind ; 

The stick comes harmless down. 

But outraged law must be avenged ; 

Begone, ye smiles, begone ! 
Away, ye little dreams of love, 

Come on, ye frowns, come on ! 
" I think I'll have to whip you, John, 

Such conduct breaks the rule ■ 
No boy, except a naughty one, 

Would kiss a girl — at school." 

Again the teacher's rod is raised — 

A Nemesis she stands — 
A premium were put on sin 

If punished by such hands ! 
As when the bee explores the rose 

We see the petals tremble, 
So trembled Mary's rosebud lips — 

Her heart would not dissemble. 

" I wouldn't whip him very hard — " 

The stick stops in its fall — 
" It wasn't right to do it, but — 

It didn't hurt at all!" 
" What made you cry, then, Mary Ann ?" 

The school's noise makes a pause, 
And out upon the listening air 

From Mary comes — " Because " ! 

Will F. McSparran. 



74 DOT LEEDLE LOWEEZA. 

DOT LEEDLE LOWEEZA. 



HOW dear to dis heart vas my grandchild Loweeza, 
Dot shweet leedle taughter of Yawcob, mine son ! 
I nefer vas tired to hug and to shqueeze her 

Vhen home I gets back, und der day's vork vas done ; 
Vhen I vas avay, oh, I know dot she miss me, 

For vhen I comes homevards she rushes bell-mell, 
Und poots oup dot shweet leedle mout for to kiss me — 
Her " darling oldt gampa," dot she lofe so veil. 

Katrina, mine frau, she could not do midoudt her ? 

She vas sooch a gomfort to her day py day ; 
Dot shild she make efry one habby aboudt her, 

Like sunshine she drife all dheir droubles avay ; 
She holdt der vool yarn vile Katrina she vind it, 

She pring her dot camfire bottle to shmell ; 
She fetch me mine bipe, too, vhen I don'd can vind it, 

Dot plue-eyed Loweeza dot lofe me so veil. 

How shweet ven der toils off der veek vas all ofer, 

Und Sunday vas come mit its quiet und rest, 
To valk mit dot shild 'mong der daisies und clofer, 

Und look at der leedle birds building dheir nest ! 
Her pright leedle eyes how dey shparkle mit bleasure — 

Her laugh it rings oudt shust so clear as a bell ; 
I dhink dhere vas nopody haf sooch a treasure 

As dot shmall Loweeza, dot lofe me so veil. 

Vhen winter vas come, midt it's coldt, shtormy vedder, 

Katrina und I musd sit in der house 
Und dalk of der bast, by der fireside togedder, 

Or blay mit dot taughter off our Yawcob Strauss. 



EXPERIENCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. 75 

Oldt age, mit its wrinkles, pegins to remind us 
Ve gannot shtay long mit our shildren to dwell ; 

Budt soon ve shall meet mit der poys left pehind us, 
Und dot shweet Loweeza, dot lofe us so veil. 

Charles F. Adams. 



EXPERIENCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. 



WE used to keep a cow when we lived in the country, 
and sich a cow ! Law sakes ! Why, she used to 
come to be milked as reg'lar as clock-work. She'd 
knock at the gate with her horns, jest as sensible as any 
other human critter. 

Her name was Rose. I never knowed how she got 
that name, for she was black as a kittle. 

Well, one day Rose got sick, and wouldn't eat noth- 
ing, poor thing ! and a day or so arter she died. I raly 
do believe I cried when that poor critter was gone. 
Well, we went for a little spell without a cow, but I 
told Mr. Scruggins it wouldn't do, no way nor no how ; 
and he gin in. Whenever I said must Mr. Scruggins 
knowed I meant it. Well, a few days arter, he come 
home with the finest cow and young calf you ever seed. 
He gin thirty dollars for her and the calf, and two 
levies to a man to help bring her home. Well, they 
drove her into the back yard, and Mr. Scruggins told 
me to come out and see her, and I did ; and I went up 
to her jest as I used to did to Rose, and when I said, 
" Poor Sukey," would you believe it ? the nasty brute 
kicked me right in the fore part of my back ; her foot 
catched into my dress — bran-new dress, too — cost two 
levies a yard, and she took a levy's worth right out as 
clean as the back of my hand. 



7b EXPERIENCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. 

I screeched right out, and Mr. Scruggins kotched me 
jest as I was dropping, and he carried me to the door, 
and I went in and sot down. I felt kind o' faintish, I 
was so abominable skeered. 

Mr. Scruggins said he would larn her better manners, 
so he picked up the poker and went out ; but I had 
hardly began to get a leetle strengthened up afore in 
rushed my dear husband a-flourishing the poker, and 
that vicious cow arter him like all mad. Mr. Scrug- 
gins jumped into the room, and, afore he had time to 
turn round and shut the door, that desperate brute was 
in, too. 

Mr. Scruggins got up on the dining-room table, and I 
run into the parlor. I thought I'd be safe there, but I 
was skeered so bad that I forgot to shut the door, and 
sakes alive ! after hooking over the dining-room table 
and rolling Mr. Scruggins off, in she walked into the 
parlor, shaking her head as much as to say, " I'll give 
you a touch now." I jumped on a chair, but thinking 
that warn't high enough, I got one foot on the brass 
knob of the Franklin stove, and put the other on the 
mantel-piece. You ought to ha' seen that cow in our 
parlor ; she looked all round as if she was 'mazed ; at 
last she looked in the looking-glass, and thought she 
seed another cow exhibiting anger like herself; she 
shuck her head and pawed the carpet, and so did her 
reflection, and — would you believe it? — that awful 
brute went right into my looking-glass. 

Then I boo-hoo'd right out. All this while I was 
getting agonized; the brass knob on the stove got so 
hot that I had to sit on the narrer mantel-piece and 
hold on to nothing. I dussent move for fear I'd- slip 
off. 



EXPERIENCE WITH A REFRACTORY COW. 77 

Mr. Scruggins came round to the front door, but it 
was locked, and then he come to the window and 
opened it. I jumped down and run for the window, 
and hadn't more'n got my head out afore I heard that 
critter a-coming after me. Gracious ! but I was in a 
hurry ; more haste, less speed, always ; for the more I 
tried to climb quick the longer it took, and just as I 
got ready to jump down, that brute of a cow kotched 
me in the back and turned me over and over out of the 
window. 

Well, when I got right side up, I looked at the win- 
dow, and there stood that cow, with her head between 
the white and red curtains, and another piece of my 
dress dangling on her horns. 

Well, my husband and me was jest starting for the 
little alley that runs alongside of the house, when the 
cow give a bawl, and out of the window she come, 
whisking her tail, which had kotched fire on the Frank- 
lin stove, and it served her right. 

Mr. Scruggins and me run into the alley in such 
haste we got wedged fast. Husband tried to get ahead, 
but I'd been in the rear long enough, and I wouldn't 
let him. That dreadful cow no sooner seen us in the 
alley than she made a dash, but, thank goodness ! she 
stuck fast, too. 

Husband tried the gate, but that was fast, and there 
wasn't nobody inside the house to open it. Mr. Scrug- 
gins wanted to climb over and unbolt it, but I wouldn't 
let him. I wasn't going to be left alone again, with 
that desperate cow, even if she was fast ; so I made 
him help me over the gate. Oh, dear, climbing a high 
gate when you're skeered by a cow is a dreadful thing, 
and I know it ! 



78 JEALOUSY IN THE CHOIR. 

Well, I got over, let husband in, and then it took 
him and me and four other neighbors to get that dread- 
ful critter out of the alley. She bellered and kicked, 
and her calf bellered to her, and she bawled back 
again ; but we got her out at last, and such a time ! I'd 
had enough of her ; husband sold her for twenty dol- 
lars next day. It cost him seventy-five cents to get her 
to market, and when he tried to pass off* one of the five- 
dollar bills he got, it turned out to be a counterfeit. 

Mr. Scruggins said to his dying day that he believed 
the brother of the man that sold him the cow bought it 
back again. I believe it helped to worry my poor hus- 
band into his grave. Ah, my friends, you better be- 
lieve I know what a cow is. 



JEALOUSY m THE CHOIR. 



SILVERY noted, 
Lily-throated, 
Starry-eyed and golden-haired, 
Charming Anna, 
The soprano, 
All the singers' hearts ensnared. 

Long the tenor 
Sought to win her, 

Sought to win her for his bride ; 
And the basso 
Loved the lass so, 

Day and night for her he sighed. 

The demeanor 
Of the tenor 
To the basso frigid grew ; 



JEALOUSY IN THE CHOIR. 79 

And the basso 
As he was so 
Mashed, of course, grew frightened too. 

Anna smiled on 

Both, which piled on 
To their mutual hatred fuel ; 

So, to win her, 

Bass and tenor 
Swore they'd fight a vocal duel. 

Shrieked the tenor 

Like a Vennor 
Cyclone howling o'er the plain, 

Sang so high 

To outvie 
The bass, he split his head in twain. 

Growled the basso 

Till he was so 
Low, to hear him was a treat ; 

Lower still he 

Went until he 
Split the soles of both his feet. 

Charming Anna, 

The soprano, 
Mourned a week for both her fellows ; 

Then she wed the 

Man who fed the 
Wind into the organ bellows. 

—Lowell New Moon. 



80 THE LOVERS. 

HER LOVERS. 



MY first, my very first, his name was Will — 
A handsome fellow ; fair, with curling hair, 
And lovely eyes. I have his locket still. 

He went to Galveston and settled there, 
At least I heard so. Ah, dear me— dear me ! 
How terribly in love he used to be ! 

The second, Robert Hill, he told his love 

The first night that we met. 'Twas at a ball — 

A foolish boy. He carried off my glove. 
We sat out half the dances in the hall, 

And flirted in the most outrageous way. 

Ah, me ! how mother scolded all next day. 

The third woke up my heart. From night till morn, 
From morn till night, I dreamed of him ; 

I treasured up a rosebud he had worn ; 
My tears and kisses made his picture dim. 

Strange that I cannot feel the old, old flame, 

When I remember Paul — that was his name. 

The fourth and fifth were brothers — twins at that ; 

Good fellows, kind, devoted, clever, too. 
'Twas rather shabby to refuse them flat — 

Both in one day, but what else could I do ? 
My heart was still with Paul, and he had gone 
Yacht sailing with the Misses Garretson ! 

H£ never cared for me — I found that out — 
Despite the foolish clingings of my hope ; 

A few months proved it clear beyond a doubt. 
I steeled my heart ; I would not pine or mope, 



CONSOLATION EVEN ON A MIXED TRAIN. 81 

But masked myself in gayety, and went 

To grace his wedding when the cards were sent. 

So those were all my loves. My husband ? Oh, 
I met him down in Florida one fall — 

Rich, middle-aged, and prosy, as you know ; 
He asked me, I accepted ; that is all. 

A kind, good soul : he worships me ; but then 

I never count him in with other men. 

Bachelor Ben. 



CONSOLATION EVEN ON A MIXED TRAIN. 



ON some of the Western roads they attach a passen- 
ger car to a freight train and call it " mixed." It 
isn't in the order of things that such trains should 
travel very rapidly, and sometimes there is considerable 
growling among the " traffic." 

"Are we most there, conductor?" asked a nervous 
man, for the hundredth time. " Remember, my wife is 
sick and I'm anxious." 

" We'll get there on time," replied the conductor, 
stolidly. 

Half an hour later the nervous man approached him 
again. 

" I guess she's dead now," said he, mournfully, " but 
I'd give you a little something extra if you could man- 
age to catch up with the funeral. Maybe she won't be 
so decomposed but what I would recognize her." ^ 

The conductor growled at him, and the man sub- 
sided. 

" Conductor," said he, after an hour's silence, " con- 
ductor, if the wind isn't dead ahead, I wish you would 
6 



82 pat's reason. 

put on some steam. I'd like to see where my wife is 
buried before the tombstone crumbles to pieces ! Put 
yourself in my place for a moment !" 

The conductor shook him off, and the man relapsed 
into profound melancholy. 

" I say, conductor," said he, after a long pause, " I've 
got a note coming due in three months. Can't you fix 
it so as to rattle along a little ?" 

" If you come near me again I'll knock you down !" 
snorted the conductor, savagely. 

The nervous man regarded him sadly, and went to 
his seat. Two hours later the conductor saw him chat- 
ting gayly and laughing heartily with a brother victim, 
and approached him. 

" Don't feel so badly about your wife's death ?" 

" Time heals all wounds," sighed the nervous man. 

" And you are not so particular about the note,"- 
sneered the conductor. 

"Not now. That's all right. Don't worry. I've 
been figuring up, and I find that the note has outlawed 
since I spoke to you last !" — Traveler's Magazine. 

. V 



PAT'S REASON. 



ONE day, in a crowded Gates Avenue car, 
A lady was standing. She had ridden quite far, 
And seemed much disposed to indulge in a frown. 
As nobody offered to let her sit down. 
And many there sat who, to judge by their dress, 
Might a gentleman's natural instincts possess, 
But who, judged by their acts, make us firmly believe 
That appearances often will sadly deceive. 



BACK WHERE THEY USED TO BE. 8c 

There were some most intently devouring the news, 
And some thro' the windows enjoying the views ; 
And others indulged in a make-believe nap — 
While the lady still stood holding on by the strap. 
At last a young Irishman, fresh from the " sod," 
Arose with a smile and most comical nod, 
Which said quite as plain as in words could be stated 
That the lady should sit in the place he'd vacated. 
" Excuse me," said Pat, " that I caused you to wait 
So long before offerin' to give you a sate, 
But in troth I was only just waitin' to see 
If there wasn't more gintlemin here beside me." 

— Brooklyn Eagle. 



BACK WJIEKE THEY USED TO BE. 



PAP'S got his patent right and rich as all creation ; 
But where's the peace and comfort that w T e all had 
before ? 
Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby Station — 
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore ! 

The likes of us a-livin' here ! It's jest a mortal pity 
To see us in this great big house, with cyarpets on the 
stairs, 
And the pump right in the kitchen ; and the city ! city ! 
city !— 
And nothing but the city all around us everywheres ! 

Climb clean above the roof and look from the steeple, 
And never see a robin, nor a beech or ellum tree ! 

And right here in earshot of at least a thousan' people, 
And none that neighbors with us, or we want to go 
and see ! 



84 BACK WHERE THEY USED TO BE. 

Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station — 

Back where the latch-string's a-hangin' from the 
door, 
And every neighbor 'round the place is dear as a rela- 
tion — 
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore ! 

I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit and bilin' 
A-drivin' up from Shallow Ford to stay the Sunday 
through, 
And I want to see 'em hitchin' at their son-in-law's and 
pilin' 
Out there at Lizy Ellen's like they used to do ! 
I want to see the piece-quilts the Jones girls is makin', 
And I want to pester Laury 'bout their freckled 
hired hand, 
And joke her 'bout the widower she come purt' nigh 
a-takin', 
Till her pap got his pension 'lowed in time to save 
his land. 

Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station — 
Back where they's nothin' aggervatin' any more, 

Shet away safe in the wood around the old location — 
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore ! 

I want to see Marindy and he'p her with her sewin', 
And hear her talk so lovin' of her man that's dead 
and gone, 
And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he's 
growin', 
And smile as I have saw her 'fore she put her mourn- 
in' on. 



GETTING LETTERS. 85 

And I want to see the Samples on the old lower Eighty, 
Where John, our oldest boy, he was took and buried, 
for 
His own sake and Katy's, — and I want to cry with 
Katy 
As she reads all his letters over, writ from the war. 

What's in all this grand life and high situation, 

And nary pink nor hollyhawk bloomin' at the door? 

Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station — 
Back where we used to be so happy and so pore. 

James Whitcomb Riley. 



GETTING LETTERS. 



IF you are a man, with man's respect for woman, 
and if you have just sixty seconds to spare to catch 
the train, and if you step into the post-office to inquire 
for your mail at the general delivery, as did a certain 
worthy citizen recently, you will invariably find a little 
woman there before you — as did the worthy citizen — 
who is saying : 

" Is there any mail for me?" 

" Nothing at all," replies the clerk. 

"But you never looked. I know there must be a 
letter from Cousin Ann McGracker, at Obitewah." 

The clerk assured her that there is no such letter. 

" Ain't there no dress samples from New York ?" 

" No dress samples." 

" Look in your dress sample hole. Hain't you got a 
dress sample hole?" (Here you stand on your left 
foot.) " Is there any for the family ?" she continues. 



86 GETTING LETTERS. 

" Nothing." 

" Oh, dear me ! what's the matter ? Uncle Caleb 
promised to write, sure, last week." (Here you stand 
on your right foot.) " Give me the Simpsons' mail 
then." 

The Simpsons have a letter. 

"Is there anything" — (at this point you take out 
your watch and beat a tattoo with your boots) — " for 
Jerry Briggs ?" 

" Nothing." 

" Or Morocco Maud Briggs ? Or Robert Jenkins 
Briggs? Or Henry Clay Briggs? (You take a turn 
or two up and down the office.) Or Martha W. Briggs ? 
Or little Edgar Allen Poe Briggs ? (You advance to a 
position as near behind her as politeness will permit.) 
Mrs. Minerva Russell told me to ask you for her Chris- 
tian Expositor ; it ain't come ? Why, it's always come 
on Tuesdays ! What's the matter ? Has there been any 
railroad accident, or has the printing office burned 
down, or what can it be ?" (You look at your watch 
again and cough.) " Here's a newspaper I want to 
send to a lady at Smyrna. Won't you please fix it up 
for me ? Now direct it, please, to Mrs. June B. Barker, 
Smyrna, Rutherford County, Tennessee, care of B. F. 
Barker, Esq. I do write such a poor hand myself." 
(You walk frantically to the door, glower on the street, 
and walk m frantically back.) " I believe I've got a 
stamp somewhere," and then she proceeds to deliber- 
ately remove from her pockets gloves, handkerchiefs, 
hair-pins, pin-cushions, chewing wax, notes, etc., all of 
which she closely scrutinizes in search of the missing 
stamp. " I declare, I did have a stamp somewhere ! 
It's too bad, now ain't it, to lose it ?" Whereupon she 



NICKERDEMUS QUADRILLE. 87 

goes through her pockets a second time, and suddenly 
recollects that she left it at home in another dress. 
Then she rifles the pocket once more for a dime, and, 
after she has failed to find it, takes it placidly out of 
her glove. " Give me three three-cent stamps and a 
one-cent." 

She sticks the one-cent on a newspaper, and is in- 
formed by the clerk that it requires two cents. 

" A two-cent stamp ! A two-cent stamp for a news- 
paper? Why, the law ain't been changed, has it?" 
(You jerk off your hat and run your fingers through 
your hair and groan, and wish you were a ten-acre lot, 
and knew all the bad words in four hundred and forty- 
two languages.) The newspaper is finally attended to 
and the little woman asks the clerk if he won't be kind 
enough to write her a note to somebody in Punkapuk, 
Pa., who offers to send twelve roses for twenty-five cents, 
at about which time you give up in despair, rush into a 
hack, and if you reach the station in time to catch the 
train, you are more fortunate than was the worthy 
citizen the other day. 



NICKERDEMUS QUADRILLE. 



CHOOSE yo' pardners, time's er-flyin', 
Take yo' places on de flo' ; 
Don't yo' hear dat fiddle cryin' 
" Nickerdemus ebbermo !" 

S'lute yo' pardners, bow perlitely, 

Dat's de motion through an' through ; 

Swing dem corners, step up lightly, 
Hail Columbv ! Hallaloo ! 



88 NICKERDEMUS QUADRILLE, 

Fus' fo' forward, keep er-diggin', 
Now you sashey back again. 

Nebber mind yo' ragged riggin', 
So's 't don't show de naked skin. 

Law r dy ! See dat Peter Slater, 
How he bow en scrape aroun' ; 

Head look like a peeled pertater — 
Slick ez glass upon de crown. 

Ladies change, en keep er-scoothY, 
Cross right ober, now yo' swing. 

Hole dem heads up highfalutin', 
Look permiskus, dat's de ting. 

Mussy ! Look at Winny Jeeter, 
Dat gal flings a soople toe ; 

Crack yo' heels dar, Tom, en meet her, 
Bow en smile, en — " so en so." a 

Balance all ! Now don't git lazy, 
Fly aroun' en tar yo' shirt. 

Stomp dem feet, but don't go crazy, 
Else somebody sho' git hurt. 

Fiddler got his mouf wide ope'm, 
Hol'in' down dat music tight, 

Teeth, dey settin' sorter slope'm — 
Look like tombstones in de night. 

All sasshey ! I 'clar' to gracious ; 

Nebber seed de like befo' ; 
Niggers sho'ly dance ou'dacious 

'Sidrin' drouth an' oberflow. 



POINTER'S DYSPEPTIC GOAT. 89 

Heb'nly kingdom ! Look at Mary, 

Bofe eyes shinny like de moon, 
" Don't git Vary, don't git w'ary," 

Dat's de way to change de chune. 

Promenade ! Now, dat comes handy, 

Hunt yo' seats en take a res'. 
Gentermens will pass de candy 

To de gals dey love de bes\ 

— Texas Sifting s. 



POINTER'S DYSPEPTIC GOAT. 



POINTER rushes indo mine house de oder tay, und 
he say : 

" Bender, dit you know dot go-its vas intichestiple ? I 
mean, dit you efer heard apout a go-it mit de dysbepsia?" 

Den I says : " Pointer, I got no dime do lisden to 
vild gooseperry shtories apout intichestiple go-its, or any 
oder kind of nonsense. I don't pelief it." 

" It ain't no nonsense apout it," says Pointer. " Now, 
Bender, you bretent to pe a skientific man, vot likes to 
learn somedings alvays. Now I told you a go-it can 
haf dysbepsia. I know it py mine own exberience. I 
had it myself — de go-it, I mean. It's name vas Nanny — 
Nanny Go-it. Dot's a pooty name ; und it vas a pooty 
go-it. Go-its, you know, vas fery egonomical. I used 
dot go-it for a vaste baper pasket. Ven I shpoils a 
biece of baper, I vhistles, und she gomes de vindow up. 
Den I fling der baper into her mout, und she valks off, 
chews de baper, und makes nice go-it's milk oud of it — 
ten cends a quart for vaste baper ! 

" Dot go-it, she had a sblendit happytight. She vould 



90 pointer's dyspeptic goat. 

eat anything, vrom a fine gambric anchorchief off de 
glothes-line, mit your name engrafed in de gorner, to a 
pasket of oyster-shells on de half-shell ; und she nefer 
seemed to pe droubled mit indichestion. 

" But she died in a strange vay. Some beoble tink 
she gomitted suinsite out of herself. 

" Von tay a noo trug shtore mofed into Harlem, und 
he vasn't acquainted mit my go-it. So he put a pasket 
of dried shponges de door oud, und he leaves de cover off. 

" Nanny, she gomes along, und she vas pooty hoon- 
gry. She eat up dem dried shponges, und she eat up 
de pasket, und she licked up de sitewalk, und valked 
herself off. 

" Py-und-by she gomes to a duck-pont, und she felt 
awful dry. She drank up dot pont, und left de ducks in 
de mud ; und den she shtarts home. 

" Py de time she got dere, she vas as pig as a cow, 
und as light as a feader. Ven de vind blows, she 
vould roll ofer, und ve had to die her mit a shtring like 
a kite to geep her down. 

" Ve sent for Toctor Sonnenschmidt, de cow-toctor. 
Vhen he comes he says, 'I untershtand oxactly de case. 
It vasn't eating de shponges ; — it vas trinking de vater 
— hart-trinking — dot's vere she made de misdake. De 
only ting ve can do vas to put her in de glothes-wrinker 
und wrink her dry.' 

" But it vas too late. Vhile ve vent in to got de 
glothes-wrinker, ve heard a loud noise, like a cannon 
oxbloded. De glasses proke mit de vindows out ; und 
ven ve comes mit de yard out again, de go-it vasn't 
dere. Und de next tay, you could find little pieces of 
shponges all ofer de shtreets of Harlem." 

Von Boyle. 



pat's letter. 91 

PAT'S LETTER. 



DEAR Dennis, my darlint, I take up my pen, 
To ax ye year health, and to urge ye agin 
To lave far behind ye the city of Cork, 
An' to cross the big say fur the town av New York. 
If this letter don't rach ye, be sure ye don't fail 
To answer me back in th' folio win' mail ; 
For Altherman Reilly — good luck till his sowl — 
Last month put your name on the city's pay rowl. 

Tell friends who inquire, an' the byes ev'ry one, 
That this is the foinest place onther the sun ; 
That an Irishman here is recaived wid respect, 
An' his claims to an office none iver reject ; 
That Americans all — may they never grow less — 
Entherthain such regard for the powers we possess, 
That niver a bit do they offer to vote, 
But lave us to sail the political boat. 

Yer counthrymen here have the crame of the land ; 
An' ye see thim the rulers on every hand ; 
They're law-makers, law-brakers, joodges and juries ; 
Faix, to find what they're not would distract all the 

furies. 
Yit the rayson their sarvices have sich demand 
On me sowl I as yit cannot well ontherstand ; 
For betwuxt you and me there are some rather dull, 
While the best have a weakness to a thickness of skull. 

In the grand City Hall, where the law-makers meet, 
To expend public money and fight in debate, 
'Twould make your eyes glisten to witness how grand 
Yer counthrymen look, ranged on every hand. 



92 pat's letter. 

There's Goman an' Cuddy, O'Brien, an' Moore, 
O'Connor, an' Haley, right home from yer door ; 
With Chrishiloch Farley, O'Reilly, and Fay, 
O'Nail and Mike Norton, the boy for a fray. 

These have doorkeepers grand, wid no doors to keep ; 

Whose sarvice for nothin' would hardly be cheap ; 

Yit they're paid by the Council Boord here in New 

York 
As much as the Queen pays the Mayor av Cork. 
And the booard has a manual published aich year, 
Wherein their grand signatures bowldly appear 
To refute, widout doubt, to their enemy's shame, 
The charge that an Alderman can't write his name. 

In a friendly discussion av sticks vid a foe, 
Should you lave him for dead by an onlucky blow, 
Shure there's Coroner Keenan and Coroner Flynn, 
Whose vardict will be, 'twas a justified sin. 
Or should ye be tried for yer life by a joodge, 
Jist keep up your courage, me lad — never budge, 
For the District Attorney, one Gavin by name, 
Is, like Dick O' Gorman, a man most humane. 
But, alas ! my dear bruhil, should everything fail, 
An' the joodge should say death, let your cheeks never 

pale, 
For the sheriff is Shamus O'Brien, an' he 
Is opposed to enforcing the death penalty. 

Go, Dennis, avic, take a friendly advice, 
An' lave the ould dart with your friends in a trice, 
For at home nought but poverty stares in your face, 
While here you'll be honored, and get a good place. 



TOM SAWYER TREATED FOR LOVESICKNESS. 



TOM SAWYER TREATED FOR LOVESICK- 
NESS. 



Abridged. 

TOM SAWYER, a lad of twelve years, lived with 
his guardian, Aunt Polly, and Tom, like some 
small boys and many large ones, was lovesick. His 
aunt not understanding the nature of the disease was 
concerned. 

She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She 
was one of those people who are infatuated with patent 
medicines, and all new-fangled methods of producing 
health — or mending it. She was an inveterate experi- 
menter in these things. When something fresh in this 
line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it ; 
not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody 
else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the 
" Health " periodicals and phrenological frauds, and 
the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath 
to her nostrils. All the advice they contained about 
ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, 
and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much 
exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's 
self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel 
to her. But she never suspected that she was not an 
angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise to 
the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was now 
new, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. 
She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him 
up in the wood shed and drowned him with a deluge of 
cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel 
like a file, and so brought him to ; then she rolled him 



94 TOM SAWYER TREATED FOR LOVESICKNESS. 

up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till 
she sweated his soul clean, and " the yellow stains of it 
came through his pores " — as Tom said. 

Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and 
more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added 
hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The 
boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to 
assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister 
plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a 
jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. 

Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this 
time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with con- 
sternation. This indifference must be broken up at any 
cost. Now she heard of pain-killer for the first time. 
She ordered a lot at once. She tested it and was filled 
with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. 
She dropped the water treatment and everything else, 
and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a 
teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for 
the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her 
soul at peace again ; for the M indifference " was broken 
up. The boy could not have showed a wilder, heartier 
interest if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt it 
was time to wake up ; this sort of life might be romantic 
enough in his blighted condition, but it was getting to 
have too little sentiment and too much distracting 
variety about it. So he thought over various plans for 
relief, and finally hit upon that of professing to be fond 
of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became 
a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help 
himself and quit bothering her. But suspecting Tom, 
she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that 
the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to 



TOM SAWYER TREATED FOR LOVESICKNESS. 95 

her that the bo} 7 was mending the health of a crack in 
the sitting-room floor with it. 

One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack, 
when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying 
the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom 
said : 

" Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." 

But Peter signified that he did want it. 

" You better make sure." 

Peter was sure. 

" Xow you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, 
because there ain't anything mean about me ; but if you 
find you don't like it you musn't blame anybody but 
your own self." 

Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open 
and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a 
couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war- 
whoop and set off round and round the room, banging 
against furniture, upsetting flower pots, and making 
general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and 
pranced around in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head 
over his shoulder, and his voice proclaiming his unap- 
peasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the 
house again, spreading chaos and destruction in his 
path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a 
few double summersaults, deliver a final mighty hurrah, 
and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of 
the "flower-pots with him. 

The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peer- 
ing over her glasses ; Tom lay on the floor expiring 
with laughter. 

" Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" 

"I don't know, Aunt," gasped the boy. 



96 POET-TREE. 

" Why I never see anything like it. What did make 
him act so ?" 

" 'Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly ; cats always act so 
when they're having a good time." 

" They do, do they ?" There was something in the 
tone that made Tom apprehensive. 

" Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." 

"You do?" 

« Yes'm." 

The old lady was bending down, Tom watching with 
interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined 
her drift. The handle of the tell-tale teaspoon was 
visible. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, 
and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the 
usual handle — his ear — and cracked his head soundly 
with her thimble. 

" Now, sir, what do you want to treat that poor dumb 
beast so for ?" 

" I done it out of pity for him — because he hadn't 
any aunt." 

" Hadn't any aunt ! — you numscull. What has that 
got to do with it ?" 

" Heaps ! Because if he'd a had one she'd a burnt 
him out herself." Mark Twain. 



POET-TEEE. 



OAK, Caroline ! fir yew I pine ; 
O, willow, will you not be mine? 
Thy hazel eyes, thy tulips red, 
Thy ways, all larch, have turned my head ; 



ART AND NATURE. 97 

All linden shadows by thy gate. 
I cypress on my heart and wait ; 
Then gum ! be cherished, Caroline ; 
We'll fly for elms of bliss divine. 

O, spruce young man ! I cedar plan — 
Catalpa's money, if you can ; 
You sumach ash, but not my heart ; 
You're evergreen, so now depart ; 
You'ld like to poplar — that I see — 
Birch you walnut propose to me — 
Here's pa ! you'll se helmlock the gate ; 
He maple litely say, " 'tis late." 

Locust that lovyer, while he flew 
For elms before that parent's shoe ; 
He little thought a dog would bite 
And make him balsam much that night, 
Hawthorney path he traveled o'er, 
And he was sick and sycamore. 

H. C. Dodge. 



AET AND NATURE. 



ELIZA JANE, two lovers had, 
The one was Nature, t'other Art, 
They were so very near alike, 
She couldn't tell the two apart. 

At last, to test their qualities, 

And give to one the vantage place, 

She proffered each a photograph 
Of her ethereal, tempting face. 

7 



98 DUEL BETWEEN MR. SHOTT AND MR. NOTT. 

Art snatched the pretty paper prize, 
And pressed it to his heart, and then 

He put it to his marble lips, 

And kissed it o'er and o'er again. 

But Nature hurled the painted gift 
Aside, with haughty, proud disdain, 

And grappling her with strong embrace, 
He kissed that plump Eliza Jane. 

" Begone, O Art !" the maiden cried, 
" Let critics hymn your praise sublime, 

But men are men and girls are girls, 
And I'll take Nature every time." 



THE DUEL BETWEEN MR. SHOTT AND 
MR. NOTT. 



A DUEL was lately fought in Texas by Alexander 
Shott and John S. Nott. Nott was shot, and 
Shott was not. In this case it is better to be Shott than 
Nott. There was a rumor that Nott was not shot, and 
Shott avows that he shot Nott, which proves either 
that the shot Shott shot at Nott was not shot, or that 
Nott was shot notwithstanding. Circumstantial evidence 
is not always good. It may be made to appear on trial 
that the shot Shott shot shot Nott, or, as accidents with 
fire-arms are frequent, it may be possible that the shot 
Shott shot shot Shott himself, when the whole affair 
would resolve itself into its original elements, and Shott 
would be shot, and Nott would be not. We think, 
however, that the shot Shott shot shot not Shott, but 
Nott ; anyway, it is hard to tell who was shot. — Har- 
per's Weekly. 



THEOLOGY IN THE QUARTERS. 99 

% THEOLOGY IN THE QUARTERS. 

"YTOW, I's got a notion in my head dat when you 
-Ul come to die, 

An' stan' de 'zamination in de Cote-House in de sky, 
You'll be 'stonished at de questions dat de angel's 

gwine to ax 
When he gits you on de witness-stan' an' pin you to de 

fac's ; 
'Cause he'll ax you mighty closely 'bout your doin's in 

de night, 
An' de water-milion question's gwine to bodder you a 

sight ! 
Den your eyes'll open wider dan dey ebber done befo', 
When he chats you 'bout a chicken scrape dat happened 

long ago ! 

De angels on de picket-line erlong de Milky Way 
Keeps a-watchin' what you're dribin' at, an' hearin' 

what you say ; 
No matter what you want to do, no matter whar you's 

gwine, 
Day's mighty ap' to find it out an' pass it 'long de line ; 
And of en at de meetin', when you make a fuss an' 

laugh, 
Why, dey send de news a-kitin' by de golden telegraph ; 
Den de angel in de orfis, what's a sett in' by de gate, 
Jes' reads de message wid a look an' claps it on de slate ! 

Den you better do your duty well an' keep your con- 
science clear, 

An' keep a-lookin' straight ahead an' w r atchin' whar you 
steer ; 



100 love's seasons. 

'Cause arter while de time'll come to journey fum de 

Ian'," 
An' dey'll take you way up in de a'r an' put you on de 

stan' ; 
Den you'll hab to listen to de clerk an' answer mighty 

straight, 
If you ebber spec' to trabble froo de alaplaster gate ! 

— The Century. 



LOVE'S SEASONS. 



TT1 WAS spring when I first found it out ; 
-L 'Twas autumn when I told it ; 
The gloomy winter made me doubt, 

And summer scarce could hold it ; 
" She loves," the mating robins sang 

In sweet, delicious trebles, 
And in the brooks the echo rang 

In music o'er the pebbles. 

The fresh air, filled with fragrant scent 

Of blossoms, softly hinted 
The self-same song ; where'er I went 

I found the message printed 
On bud and leaf, on earth and sky, 

Through sun and rain it glistened, 
And though I never reasoned why, 

I always read or listened. 

The summer dawned, and still the birds 

Sang in their tree-top glory, 
And something seemed to make their words 

A sequel to my story : 



TIMOTHY DOOLAN's WILL. 101 

" You love," they twittered in the trees, 
Whene'er the light wind stirred them, — 

Distracting words ! on every breeze 
They fluttered, and I heard them. 

At last the mellow autumn came, 

And all the leaves were turning,. 
The fields and forests were aflame 

In golden sunlight burning ; 
The parting birds sang out again 

A sentimental message : 
" Go tell her," whispered they, and then 

I thought 'twas love's first presage. 

Oh ! timid-hearted twenty-four, 

To faint and lose your courage, 
Or half reluctantly implore 

A pretty girl at her age ! 
For when I stammered what they sung 

And all their secrets told her, 
She said the birds were right, and hung 

Her head upon my shoulder. 

Frank Dempster Sherman. 



TIMOTHY DOOLAN'S WILL. 



I TIMOTHY DOOLAN, of Barrydownderry, in the 
? County Clare, farmer, being sick and wake on my 
legs, but of sound head and warm heart, do make this my 
first and last will and old and new testament. First, I 
give me sowl to God, when it plazes Him to take it — 
shure, no thanks to me, for I can't help it then, — and my 
body to be buried in the ground at Barrydownderry 



102 A MEDLEY. 

Chapel, where all my kith and kin that have gone before 
me, and those who live after, belonging to me, are buried, 
pace to their ashes, and may the sod rest lightly over 
their bones. Bury me near my god-father and my 
mother; who lie separated all together, at the other side 
of the chapel yard. I lave the bit of ground, contain- 
ing eight acres — rale old Irish acres — to me eldest son 
Tim, after the death of his mother, if she lives to sur- 
vive him. My daughter Mary and her husband, Paddy 
O'Keagan, are to have the black pig and her twelve 
black young ones. Teddy, my second boy, that was 
killed in the war in Ameriky, might have got his pick 
of poultry, but as he has gone, I'll lave them to his 
wife, who died a week before him. I bequeath to all 
mankind fresh air of heaven, all the fishes in the sea 
they can take, and all the birds of the air they can 
shoot. I lave to them all the sun, moon, and stars. I 
lave to Peter EafFerty a pint of potheen I can't finish, 
and may God be merciful to him. Good-bye to the 
whole wuruld, good-bye ! 



A MEDLEY. 



"f\^ Linden, when the sun was low, 

Vy All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly." 

" But Linden saw another sight 

When the drum beat, at dead of night, 

Commanding fires of death to light 

The"— 

" Silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 



A MEDLEY. 103 

Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt 
before ; 

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood 
repeating " — 

" ' Forward, the Light Brigade ! 

Charge for the guns !' he said ; 

Into the Valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

* Forward, the Light Brigade P 

Was there a man dismayed ? 

Not though the soldiers knew" — 

" I am thy father's spirit ; 

Doomed for a certain term to walk the night ; 

And for the day, confined to fast in fires, 

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature 

Are burned and purged away. But that I am for- 
bid 

To tell"— 

" In sweet May time, so long ago, 

I stood by the big wheel spinning tow, 

Buzz, buzz, so very slow ;" — 

" While a rub, dub, dub a rub, dub, dub a rub a dub, 
dub a dub, bub, dub dub 

Exultingly the tidings brings " — 

" Where the splendor falls on castle walls, 

And snowy summits, old in story ; 

The long light shakes across the lakes, 

And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 

Blow, bugle, blow ; set the wild echoes flying, 

Blow, bugle, answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying "- 

" For I'm to be queen o' the May, mother, 

I'm to be queen o' the May, 

So you must wake and call me early " — 




104 A MEDLEY. 

For 

" Mark Haley drives along the street, 

Perched high upon his wagon seat ; 

His somber face the storm defies, 

And thus from morn till eve he cries, 

1 Charco ! charco !' 

And many a roughish lad replies, 

1 Ark, ho ! ark, ho !' 

'Charco!'— 'Ark, ho!'" 

" But then I'm only a little girl, but I think I have as 
much right to say what I think about things as a boy. 
I hate boys ; they always grab all the strawberries at 
the dinner table, and never tell us when they are going 
to have any fun. I like Gus Rogers, though. The 
other day Gus kissed me, and a woman said : 

" ' Shame ! shame ! and you shouldn't a-let him kiss 
you. No doubt you were mostly to blame.' The hate- 
ful old thing she made Gus cry and say :" 
" I know, boo, hoo, I ought to not, 
But somehow, from her looks — boo, hoo — 
I thought she kind o' wished me to !" 
" For sorry a bit I knew what was comin' till the missus 
walked into the kitchen a-smilin', and says, kind o' 
schared loik, ' Here's Fing Wing, Kitty, an' you'll 
have too much since to mind his bein' a little strange.' 
Wid that she shoots the door, and I, mistrustin' was I 
tidied up sufficient for me foin b'y wid his paper collar, 
looks up and — Howly Fathers! may I niver brathe 
another breath but there stood " — 
" Robert of Lincoln telling his name ; 
Bob o' link, bob o' link 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Chee, chee, chee. 



UNCLE TOM AND THE HORNETS. 105 

Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed, 

Wearing a bright black wedding coat ; 

White are his shoulders and white his crest ; 

Hear him call in his merry note," 

" ' Rags ! rags ! any rags ? iron and old rags !' " 

" When loud a clarion voice replied," — 

" ' Yes, it is worth talking .of ! But that's how you always 

try to put me down. You fly into a rage, and then, if 

I only try to speak, you won't hear me. That's how 

you men always will have all the talk to yourselves ; a 

poor woman isn't allowed to get a word in.' " 

Arranged by Elizabeth Mansfield Irving. 



UNCLE TOM AND THE HORNETS. 



THERE is an old woman down town who delights to 
find a case that all the doctors have failed to cure, 
and then go to work with herbs and roots and strange 
things, and try to effect at least an improvement. A 
few days ago she got hold of a girl with a stiff, neck, 
and she offered an old negro named Uncle Tom Kelley 
fifty cents to go to the woods and bring her a hornets' 
nest. This was to be steeped in vinegar and applied to 
the neck. The old man spent a few days in the search, 
and yesterday morning he secured his prize and brought 
it home in a basket. When he reached the Central 
Market he had a few little purchases to make, and after 
getting some few articles at a grocery, he placed his 
basket on a barrel near the stove, and went out to look 
for a beef bone. It was a dull day for trade. The gro- 
cer sat by the stove rubbing his bald head. His clerk 
stood at the desk balancing accounts and three or four 



108 UNCLE TOM AND THE HORNETS. 

men lounged around, talking about the new party that 
is to be founded on the ruin of the falling ones. It was 
a serene hour. One hundred and fifty hornets had gone 
to roost in that nest for the winter. The genial atmos- 
phere began to limber them up. One old veteran 
opened his eyes, rubbed his legs, and said it was the 
shortest winter he had ever known in all his hornet 
days. A second shook off his lethargy and seconded 
the motion, and in five minutes the whole nest was alive 
and its owners were ready to sail out and investigate. 
You don't have to hit a hornet with the broad side of an 
ax to make him mad. He's mad all over all the time, 
and he doesn't care a picayune whether he tackles a 
humming-bird or an elephant. The grocer was telling 
one of the men that he and General Grant were boys 
together, when he gave a sudden start of surprise. This 
was followed by several other starts. Then he jumped 
over a barrel of sugar and yelled like a Pawnee. Some 
smiled, thinking he was after a funny climax, but it 
was only a minute before a solemn old farmer jumped 
three feet high, and came down to roll over a job lot of 
washboards. Then the clerk ducked his head and 
rushed for the door. He didn't get there. One of the 
other men, who had been looking up and down to see 
what could be the matter, felt suddenly called upon to 
go home. He was going at the rate of forty miles an 
hour, when he collided with the clerk, and they rolled 
on the floor. There was no use to tell the people in 
that store to move on. They couldn't tarry to save 'em. 
They all felt that the rent was too high, and that they 
must vacate the premises. The crowd went out to- 
gether. Uncle Tom was just coming in with his beef- 
bone. When a larger body meets a smaller one, the 



time's revenge. 107 

larger body knocks it into the middle of next week. 
The old man lay around in the slush until everybody 
had stepped on him all they wanted to, and then he sat 
up and asked, " Hev dey got de fiah all put out yit ?" 
Finally Uncle Tom was able to secure his nest, and 
placing it in the basket, said, " Mebbe dis will cure de 
stiffness in dat gal's neck, jist de same, but I tell you 
I'se got banged and bumped an' sot down on till it will 
take a hull medical college all winter long to git me so 
I kin jump off a street kyar." — Detroit Free Press. 



TIME'S KEVENGE. 



WHEN" I was ten and she fifteen, 
Ah, me ! how fair I thought her. 
She treated with disdainful mien 

The homage that I brought her, 
And in a patronizing way 

Would of my shy advances say : 
" It's really quite absurd, you see ; 
He's very much too young for me." 

I'm twenty now, she twenty-five — 

Well, w T ell, how old she's growing. 
I fancy that my suit might thrive 

If pressed again ; but owing 
To great discrepancy in age, 

Her marked attentions don't engage 
My young affections, for, you see, 

She's really quite too old for me. 



108 BRUDDER GARDINER ON MUSIC. 

AGNES, I LOVE THEE. 



I STOOD upon the ocean's briny shore, 
And with a fragile reed I traced upon the sand : 
" Agnes, I love thee." 
The mad waves rolled by and blotted out the fair im- 
pression. 
Frail reed ! cruel wave ! treacherous sand I 
I'll trust ye no more ! 
But, with a giant hand, 
I'll pluck from Norway's frozen shore her tallest pine, 
And dip its top into the crater of Mt. Vesuvius, 
And on the high and burnished heavens I'll write : 

" Agnes, I love thee." 
And I would like to see any doggoned wave wash that out. 



BRUDDER GARDINER ON MUSIC. 



"T\E soun' of a hoss-fiddle," says Brudder Gardiner, 
JLJ " brings up old reckoleckshuns an' starts de tear 
of regret. If played long 'nuff, an' de wind am in de 
right direckshun, it will cause de listener to shell out a 
subscripshun of three thousan' dollars to'rds a new 
cull'd Baptist Church. Try it once and be convinced. 

" De soun' of a harp hits a man below de belt. He 
begins to fink of all de mean fings he ever did, an' to 
wish he hadn't, an' at de eand of fifteen minits he am 
already to step ober an' pay his naybur a dollar apiece 
fur de hens he shot in his garden las' spring. 

" The jewsharp goes right to de soul. If your wife 
am all ready to 'lope off wid de hired man de notes of 



MY RIVAL. 109 

de jewsharp will take her bonnet off in sixteen seconds. 
If you keep a hired man you should also keep a jews- 
harp. 

" Pianer music sometimes hits and sometimes misses. 
Ize known it to make an old baldhead go home an' pass 
two hull hours widout cuffin' de chill'en, an' Ize known 
it to cause a young gal to slide down ober de roof ob de 
kitchen an' 'lope off wid de owner of a sideshow. 

" De guitar alius brings sadness an' a resolushun to 
begin on de 1st of Jinuary to quit a-runnin' out nights 
an* playing policy. 

" De brass band might soothe a sorrowin' soul if de 
said sorrowin' soul didn't have all he could do to hold 
his hoss. 

" De organ fills de soul wid awe an' strikes de heroic 
chord. If you am layin' fur a man, doan' tackle him 
jist arter he has bin takin' in de notes of an organ. 

" De banjo — yum ! If you want my dog — my hoss — 
my house an' lot, play me de banjo an' keep time wid 
yer fut. I 'spect de music of angelic harps am sweet an' 
soft an' dreamy, but if dey want to keep us cull'd folks 
satisfied up dar, a leetle mo' banjo an' a leetle less harp 
am de fust prescription." 



< 



MY RIVAL. 



HOW I hate to see him there, 
With his haughty, well-bred air, 
At her side, 
Looking with a scornful eye 
At poor me, as I walk by 
While thev ride. 



110 MY RIVAL. 

Well I know he is not worth, 
Spite of all his pride of birth, 

Such a favor ; 
And I think, as I advance, 
Of that calculating glance 

That he gave her. 

Lady dear, he cares for naught 

But the things which may be bought 

With your pelf ; 
In his thoughts you have no part, 
And his cold and sluggish heart 

Beats for self. 

Yet how glad I'd be and gay 
If you'd treat me in that way 

You treat him. 
'Twould with heaven itself surround me, 
And the sad old world around me 

Would grow dim. 

Ah, my lady, fair and sweet, 
Will you tell me when we meet, 

If it's true 
That your heart has grown so small, 
There is no room there at all 

For me too ? 

Did she answer no, or yes ? 
She but gave him a caress, 

Quite a hug, 
And I stayed to see him courted, 
For he is her fine, imported 

English pug. Bessie Chandler. 



TIME TURNS THE TABLES. Ill 



TIME TURNS THE TABLES. 



TEN years ago, when she was ten, 
I used to tease and scold her ; 
I liked her and she loved me then, 
A boy, some five years older. 

I liked her ; she would fetch my book, 
Bring lunch to stream or thicket ; 

Would oil my gun and bait my hook, 
And field for hours at cricket. 

She'd mend my cap or find my whip ; 

Ah ! but boys' hearts are* stony ; 
I liked her rather less than " Gyp," 

And far less than my pony. 

She loved me then, though heaven knows why, 

Small wonder she had hated ; 
For scores of dolls she had to cry, 

Whom I decapitated. 

I tore her frocks, I mussed her hair, 

Called " red " the sheen upon it ; 
Out fishing I would even dare 

Catch tad-poles in her bonnet. 

Well, now I expiate my crime, 

The Nemesis of fables 
Comes after years — to-day old Time 

On me has turned the tables. 

I'm twenty-five, she's twenty now, 
Dark-eyed, fair-cheeked, and bonny ; 

The curls are golden round her brow — 
She smiles and calls me " Johnny." 



112 HIS SIGN. 

Of yore, I used her Christian name, 
But now, through fate or malice, 

When she is by, my lips can't frame 
The letters that spell "Alice." 

I who could laugh at her and tease, 

Stand silent now before her ; 
Dumb through the very wish to please, 

A speechless, shy adorer. 

Or, if she turns to me to speak, 

I'm dazzled by her graces ; 
The hot blood rushes to my cheeks, 

I babble commonplaces. 

She's kind and cool ; ah ! heaven knows how 
I wish she blushed and faltered ! 

She likes me and I love her now ; 
Ah me ! how things have altered. 



HIS SIGN. 



THREE or four days ago a colored man, living in 
Detroit, hung out a sign on his house, which read : 

" For Sail." 

He happened to be at the gate, when a white man 
came along and said : 

" You'll never get an offer for your house with any 
such spelling as that." 

The owner of the place was greatly puzzled to im- 
prove the orthography, but finally took his wife's advice, 
and made it read : 

" For Sell." 



A LESSON IN TENNIS. 113 

This seemed to be all right for a day or two, and then 
a schoolboy halted and said : 

" If you don't fix that sign, all the children will be 
laughing at you." 

There was another convention of the family, to see 
where the mistake came in, and the sign was made to 
read: 

" Fur Sail." 

It had not been up an hour, when an old colored man 
came along and queried : 

" Does you mean dat dis place am fur Sally ? What 
yer gwine to giv de place to Sally for ?" 

" Am you findin' fault wid dat sign?" asked the other. 

" Well, I doan' quite cotch on to the spellin'." 

" You doan, eh ? Has you got seben hundred dollars 
to pay cash down fur dis place ?" 

" No, sah." 

" Den you pass on, an' shet up ! Maybe I doan 
spell jist de same as you do, but I'ze got prospects of 
handlin' seben hundred dollars, while you has got boaf 
knees out to de wedder. I doan' ker to use high flown 
language, an' hev to w'ar a shoe on one foot an' a bute 
on edder. Go 'long, ole man — you am too fly on geog'- 
aphy." 



A LESSON IN TENNIS. 



THEY played at tennis that summer day — 
Where was it ? Oh, call it Mount Desert — 
The place matters not ; I will simply say 
They were playing tennis that summer day, 
And she wore a short and striped skirt. 
8 



114 A LESSON IN TENNIS. 

He played but ill — 'twas his first essay — 

And she his partner and coach was both ; 
Though perhaps not " up " in the points of play, 
Yet she knew the game in a general way, 

And to give him points seemed nothing loath. 

He did his best, but his best was poor ; 

The balls served to him on his side stayed ; 
And thus it went on for a round or more, 
Till, anxious, he ventured to ask the score ! 

" The score ? Why, it's Thirty— Love/' she said. 

" And Love ? What is love ?" he fain would know, 
Yet blushed to ask it, for he could see 

What pardonless ignorance he must show ; 

But she calmly answered him, speaking slow, 
" Why, Love is nothing, you know," said she. 



The sun of that summer day is set ; 

That season is gone, as seasons go ; 
But his heart was caught in that tennis net, 
And they might have been playing partners yet 

Had she not given her answer, " No." 

He plays no tennis at all, this year, 

But he mopes and moans and sighs — heigho ! 

That fate is so hard, and life is so drear ; 

And worse than all else, he remembers clear, 
That " Love is nothing," she told him so. 

C. F. Coburn. 



DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. 115 



DANIEL IX THE LIONS' DEN. 



WERE you ever left alone for an hour with a child ? 
Not one of these pale, spirituelle children that 
we read about, who talk with horrible grammatical 
accuracy, and know more than an average philosopher, 
but a bright, healthy, rebellious child, who believes that 
butterflies were created to stick pins through, and that 
the best use a fly can be put to is to mash him in the 
corner of a window pane. 

In fact, the common child of eight years old. 

I was placed in such a fix the other Sunday after- 
noon. I was visiting my sister, and she and her hus- 
band went to church. In vain they tried to induce me 
to go, but somehow the green grass, the fleecy sky, and 
the balmy breath of the summer's breeze seemed far 
more preferable. 

" Well," decided my sister, " if you will stay home — 
you can take care of Freddie." 

By way of explanation, let me remark that Freddie 
is my sister's only boy, the light of her eyes and the 
pride of her heart. I fondly believe she intends him 
for the ministry. If she does, she will make a mistake. 
It is my firm conviction that Freddie was cut out for a 
first-class pirate. 

So it was decided that I should take care of Freddie. 

I had taken care of Freddie before. I think with- 
out exaggeration that I should have preferred being 
appointed guardian over several hyenas and a fero- 
cious bear. 

I determined to chain Freddie to my side. 



116 DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. 

I knew that if I didn't he would either stroll down 
to the barn and try to chop his fingers off with the hay- 
cutter, or else fall into the cistern. Falling into the 
cistern was a temptation irresistible to Freddie. 

After his parents had departed, leaving Freddie 
richer by a score of kisses, I called him to my side, 
where I lay, pipe in hand, on the close- cropped grass, 
beneath the shade of a grand old tree, 

" Freddie," asked I, " don't you want to hear a 
story ?" 

" Ye-s," doubtfully responded Freddie ; " say, Uncle 
Ed, what makes you have so many pimples on your 
face ?" 

I hastily replied that it was goodness cropping out. 
All good men were apt to have pimples. 

" What sort of a story would you like to hear, Fred- 
die ?" continued I. 

" Want to hear about giants who eat bad little boys," 
answered he, with unexpected celerity. 

Owing to the nature of the day I told him that giant 
stories were positively debarred. 

" Let me tell you about Daniel in the Lions' Den," 
I hurriedly said. " Once upon a time there was a good 
man named Daniel." 

" Daniel who ?" asked Freddie. 

" Just Daniel." 

" Daniel what ?" 

Somewhat impatiently I said that I did not know 
what his last name was. I had never studied Daniel's 
family tree. 

" Did he have a glass eye like old Daniel Kiley ?" 
Freddie queried. 

Hastily I said " No," and went on with the story. 



DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. 117 

"Daniel was carried away from Jerusalem by a 
wicked king." 

" What was he carried in ?" 

" I don't know, Freddie." 

" Was it a horse car ?" 

" No." 

" Steamboat ?" 

"No." 

"Did he walk himself?" 

" I guess so." 

" Who carried him ?" 

" The wicked king." 

" What wicked king ?" 

" Nebuchadnezzar." 

" Neboch— who ?" 

" Nebuchadnezzar." 

" Who was he ?" 

" The wicked king." 

" What did he do ?" 

" Carried Daniel into captivity." 

" What Daniel ?" 

I had to begin all over again. I said it slow so as to 
impress Freddie. 

"Nebuchadnezzar," resumed I, " was so pleased with 
Daniel's goodness that he made him his favorite." 

" Was he good ?" Freddie asked. 

"Very." 

" Never cried when his nurse washed him ?" 

" Well— hardly ever." 

" Who was pleased because he was so good ?" 

"Nebuchadnezzar." 

"Who was he?" 

" The wicked king." 



118 DANIEL IN THE LIONS* DEN. 

"What did he do?" 

" Carried away Daniel, I told you." 

"What Daniel?" 

" Freddie," expostulated I, " why don't you pay atten- 
tion ? I told you three times now who Daniel was." 

" Oh !" exclaimed Freddie, " go on. You've got a 
hole in your stocking, Uncle Ed." 

" Nebuchadnezzar," I began again, not noticing 
Freddie's personal interpolation, " was so pleased with 
Daniel " 

" Ho !" interrupted Freddie, with a snicker, " I know 
about Nebuchadnezzar." 

" What do you know ?" 

" Nebuchadnezzar — king of the Jews, 
Put on his stockings and pulled off his shoes," 

sneeringly he chanted, with a face as grave as a tomb- 
stone. 

I gasped on with my story. 

" Daniel," I said, " would not do wrong to please the 
king ; so the wicked king had him thrown into the den 
of fierce lions." 

" Did the lions belong to Barnum's circus ?" asked 
Freddie. 

" No, they were the king's." 

" What king's ?" 

" Nebuchadnezzar's." 

" Who was he ?" 

" Daniel's master." 

" What Daniel ?" 

" The good man." 

" Was he put into the lions' den f 9 

"Yes." 



DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. 119 

" Whose lions were they ?" 

" Nebuchadnezzar's." 

"Did they bite?" 

" No, they would not bite Daniel." 

" Why not — didn't they have teeth like old Mrs. 
Peters ? Billy Smith calls her gummy." 

I told Freddie that it was very sinful to speak in 
such terms of the aged, and that Billy Smith's future 
career was apt to end in a wicked way. 

" Although the king expected to see Daniel torn to 
pieces, yet he was not," related I ; " they crouched be- 
fore him." 

" Who crouched ?" 

" The lions." 

" Who did they crouch before ?" 

"Him." 

" Who's him— Billy Smith ?" 

" No, Daniel." 

"What Daniel?" 

" The good man." 

" What good man ?" 

" Daniel." 

" Daniel who ?" 

Utterly despairing, I began a violent lecture to Fred- 
die about the absolute necessity of his paying attention. 
In the midst I stopped. I suddenly became aware Fred- 
die was missing. He had faded suddenly away. 

Five minutes later I beheld Freddie out in the dirt- 
iest part of the barnyard, trying to shear the biggest 
cow with his mother's pet pair of toilet scissors. 

" Uncle Ed's stories ain't no good," I heard him con- 
fide to the placid and utterly unmoved animal. " I 
think it's because he's got a crooked nose — don't you ?" 

E. E. Ten Eyck. 



120 THE PARENT WITH THE HOOF. 

THE PARENT WITH THE HOOF. 



WHEN the yellow stars are weeping shining tears of 
molten gold 
And the wings of night in tenderness the weary earth 

enfold, 
'Tis a joy to clasp the maiden whom my soul has sworn 

to wed, 
Unmindful of the dreadful boots that patter overhead. 

Every loving glance that flutters in the portals of her 

eyes 
Sinks deep down in my heart, and turns its fountains 

into sighs ; 
And her kisses, timid pressures, shake my system to the 

roots 
As I listen to the pathos of her aged parent's boots. 

And looking far beyond her through the trials of this 

earth, 
I see the happiness to which her "eyes have given birth, 
And the softened, sweet ambition paralyzes worldly 

cares, 
Till I hear the old man's footsteps swiftly creeping 
'down the stairs. 

In her twining arms I linger, bound in chains of welded 

flowers, 
And I never note the dying of the angry, jealous hours. 
All the slings and poisoned arrows of the stern world 

stand aloof 
Till I find myself uplifted by that wretched parent's 

hoof. 



A SIMILAR CASE. 121 

There is naught in art or nature that can work with 

such a spell 
As the box-toe of a parent, properly applied and well ; 
And I ponder long and deeply whether I should press 

my suit 
For the girl, or one at law against the savage with the 

boot. 



A SIMILAR CASE. 



JACK, I hear you've gone and done it. 
Yes, I know ; most fellows will ; 
Went and tried it once myself, sir, 
Though, you see, I'm single still. 
And you met her — did you tell me ? 

Down at Newport, last July, 
And resolved to ask the question 
At a soiree ? So did I. 

I suppose you left the ball-room 
With its music and its light ; 
For they say love's flame is brightest 
In the darkness of the night. 

Well, you walked along together- 
Overhead the starlit sky, 
And I'll bet— old man, confess it — 
You were frightened. So was I. 

So you strolled along the terrace, 
Saw the summer moonlight pour 

All its radiance on the waters 
As they rippled on the shore ; 



122 THE BURGLAR ALARM. 

Till at length you gathered courage, 
When you saw that none were nigh — 

Did you draw her close and tell her 
That you loved her ? So did I. 

Well, I needn't ask you further, 
And I'm sure I wish you joy ; 
Think I'll wander down and see you 
When you're married — eh, my boy ? 
When the honeymoon is over, 

And you're settled down, we'll try — 
What ? The deuce you say ! Rejected, 
You rejected ? So was I. 



THE BURGLAR ALARM. 
a woman's bright invention. 



MR. FILLISY came home in hot haste. Important 
business called him out of town within an hour's 
time. 

" Oh, dear!" sighed Mrs. Fillisy, as she undertook to 
restore to order the chaos of Mr. Fillisy's search 
through closets and bureaus for the " few things " he 
considered necessary to his comfort — " w 7 hat shall I do ? 
It's almost dark, and nobody in the house but the new 
girl, and I haven't time to go to mother's, and I am so 
afraid. Josiah knows it, too. Why didn't he leave me 
a pistol or something ? I never shot off a pistol, and 
don't know what the trigger is ; but I'm sure I should 
feel safer if I had one. How dreadful it would be to 
be murdered here all alone, and Josiah to come home 
and find me weltering in my gore ! Ugh !" and Mrs. 



THE BURGLAR ALARM. 123 

Fillisy enjoyed a good shiver over the sanguinary pic- 
ture she had conjured up. 

But supper was announced at that moment, and it 
was not till after the two little ones were snugly tucked 
in bed that she had leisure to reflect upon her lonely 
and unprotected state. 

" I don't see why Josiah hasn't had burglar alarms 
put in the house. It would be so much better. I'll 
talk to him when he comes home. I wonder what 
they're like, anyway ? Alarm clocks, I suppose, and 
that sort of thing. Now why couldn't one invent some- 
thing simpler ? I wonder " and here Mrs. Fillisy's 

thoughts were arrested by a bright idea. 

She was seated by the stove, and her glance fell upon 
the wire guard which kept the wee toddlers from too 
close contact with its glowing surface. 

" The very thing !" she exclaimed. " I'll invent an 
alarm myself. Talk about women having no inventive 
genius. I'll have Josiah apply for a patent the moment 
he gets home. Now, I'll just get it and try, and if any 
burglar undertakes to get in here to-night he'll just 
wish he hadn't, that's all ! 

" Turn te turn te turn te iddity, 
Turn te turn te turn te tay, 
Turn te turn te turn te iddity, 

I'll be an inventor myself some day." 

And Mrs. Fillisy started up in high glee. 

After considerable pushing and hauling about in a 
closet under the stairs, she brought to view a large coil 
of barbed wire, in which Mr. F. had the previous sum- 
mer invested for the purpose of surmounting his orchard 
fence. 



124 THE BURGLAR ALARM. 

" Now isn't it lucky that Josiah didn't use this ? If 
he had, I couldn't have shown him what a smart wife 
he has. I'll show them ! Ouch ! What mean stuff it 
is to handle ! But all the better for Mr. Burglar. Now 
where'll I put it first V s 

Mrs. Fillisy pondered deeply, with all the gravity 
worthy of a great inventor, and at last decided that 
as the hired girl had gone to bed, and there was no 
one but herself about, she would build such a wall of 
barbed wire at the foot of the stairs as no burglar could 
possibly surmount. But when she had wound it around 
the newel-post, with many "Ah's" and "Oh's," she 
found that the w T ire wouldn't fasten itself to the wall, 
and as for this brave inventor's making a long and 
lonesome journey into the wood-shed for hammer and 
nail — no, indeed, she wouldn't. She would show Josiah 
that a woman's mind could triumph over matter. 

" No man would think of this," she said to herself, 
as she proceeded to fasten the wire in and out of the 
claw-feet that held the stair-rods in position. " Dear 
me, it's slow work ; but then all problems are slow of 

solution, and Mrs. F , you mustn't be too smart an 

inventor. I wonder what folks 'ill do who haven't got 
stair-rods ? Get some, I suppose ; or, maybe, now, 
when Josiah comes home he can think of something to 
hold the wire down, anyway. Ouch ! just see my 
fingers bleed! Horrid stuff! I wonder how Mr. 
Burglar will like that." 

And Mrs. Fillisy surveyed with honest pride the work 
of her fertile brain and nimble, but wounded fingers. 

She had contrived, by dint of twisting and turning 
the barbed wire in every shape and direction, to create 
a perfect battery of needle points on the lower step. 



THE BURGLAR ALARM. 125 

"You couldn't put your finger down without get- 
ting pricked," she soliloquized as she attacked the 
next step. " Now you see a person might have a 
carpet of this, that she could spread down before win- 
dows and doors, and if a burglar were to step real hard 
on it he'd surely have to scream, and that would wake 
one ; and then, while he was nursing his foot, why one 
could shoot him, or catch him, or something. Oh, dear, 
there's another scratch ! What awful hard work it is to 
be an inventor." 

And Mrs. Fillisy stuck her finger in her mouth and 
sighed deeply. It was eleven o'clock before she had 
completed her net-work of wire upon the last step, 
and then, too tired to do as she had intended — stretch 
the wire across her bed-room door — she contented her- 
self with rolling the dressing-case against the door, and 
retired, convinced that no burglar would set foot inside 
her room that night. 

But hardly had she laid her head on her pillow when 
there sounded from the little cot beside her the wail, 
".I want a drink ! I want a drink ! I'se awful thirsty." 

Merciful sakes ! she had forgotten, in her interest in 
her invention, to bring up any water ! " There, there, 
darling ! Now go to sleep ! That's mamma's pet." 

" I 'on't ! I want a drink ! I can't go to seep widout 
a drink." 

" Oh, dear ! There's no help for it, I suppose. How- 
ever in this world am I to get down those stairs ?" 

Taking the night-lamp in her hand, she surveyed the 
situation. "The only way is to slide down." And, 
suiting the action to the word, she imitated the riotous 
schoolboy in his wild flight through space. She reached 
the lower floor safely enough, albeit somewhat jarred 



126 THE BURGLAR ALARM, 

by her unaccustomed locomotion; but when she had 
filled her pitcher and retraced her steps to the foot of 
the stairs, she regarded the proofs of her inventive 
genius with horrified dismay. 

From the dim regions above came the wail, " I want 
a drink/' while the chorus of a still smaller voice filled 
the night with the music of its " Meows, meows." 

" Yes, darling, mother is coming." But how ? She 
couldn't slide up ! Beside, her hands were full. But 
those clamorous voices called forth every energy, and, 
leaving her lamp at the foot of* the stairs, she crept up 
slowly, hand over hand, foot over foot, on the outside of 
the bannister, and, groping her way to her room, quieted 
the voice with the few drops of water remaining in the 
pitcher, and then went down, in another wild flight 
after her lamp. 

Worn out with her exertions, when she once more 
reached her room, she fell asleep almost immediately. 
She was awakened a little later by a shrill scream of 
" Howly Moses ! Oh, wurra, wurra ! It's a murtherin' 
snake, it is!" and, jumping up bewildered, she recog- 
nized Bridget's voice in the hall. 

" Why, what is the matter, Bridget ?" 

" Shure, and matther is it ? It's a snake, or some 
other murtherin' baste has hurted me fut that bad! 
musha ! musha !" and Bridget sat on the hall floor 
rolling from side to side and holding her wounded foot 
in her hand. 

" Oh, no, Bridget, it's only the burglar alarm. I 
forgot to tell you about it. See, my hands are all cut 
up by it, too ; but it'll keep burglars away." 

" Burglar alarm, is it, thin ? An' who put it there, if 
yez plaze ?" By this time Bridget was standing erect 



THE BULGLAR ALARM. 127 

and glaring at her mistress with vengeance in her 
eyes. 

" Why, I did ! You see Mr. Fillisy is gone away and 
I wanted to feel safe — " 

" Shure an' it's safe yez are from this night on. I'll 
be lavin' yez in the mornin'. I never worked afore 
where a dacent gurrul couldn't go down the stairs for a 
bit of clove ile to put in her achin' tooth widout steppin' 
on a burglar alarm and havin' her feet hurted that bad ! 
Shure an' I'll be afther lavin' in the mornin', ma'am," 
and Bridget limped toward her room in a state of un- 
appeasable indignation. 

" I'm so sorry, Bridget ; I didn't think," began Mrs. 
Fillisy, deprecatingly. 

" Shure, an' ye'll think in the mornin', ma'am," and 
Bridget banged her door with a force that shut off all 
further explanations. 

Mrs. Fillisy retired to bed to weep ; she had been at 
such pains to procure Bridget, who had been recom- 
mended as very efficient help, and whose culinary pow- 
ers Mr. Fillisy had especially praised that very day. 
How angry Josiah would be when he came home and 
found Bridget gone. Dear ! dear ! and all because of 
that burglar alarm ! 

Somehow her pride in her invention began to wane. 
She wasn't quite so sure now that Josiah would be pre- 
pared to admit that woman had as much genius as her 
so-called lord and master. 

She was crying silently over her trials when suddenly 
she heard a sound that caused every individual hair on 
her head to stand erect. Somebody was at the front 
door ! She couldn't be mistaken ! There ! it opened ! 
and yes, hear those stealthy steps along the hall, and 



128 THE BURGLAR ALARM. 

there goes the sitting-room door ! Oh dear ! There's a 
burglar in the house for certain ! How frightened she 
was ! There ! she heard him moving cautiously about in 
the sitting-room. What could he be doing? Getting 
the silver? Searching for money? Oh! she did hope 
she wouldn't be murdered ! Poor Josiah would feel so 
bad. And then she thought all at once of the burglar 
alarm. 

" Ha ! I have thee now !" she quoted, mentally. 
" One step and thou art doomed." Then she laughed — 
then listened. Another step. A bold burglar, cer- 
tainly. He must know she was alone. She ceased 
laughing. Still another step ! " Thunder and Mars !" 
came in muffled tones up the stairs and along the hall. 
Merciful heaven ! he was coming in. " Great Scott ! 
Jerusalem ! Ten thousand furies ! Sulphur and brim- 
stone !" was wafted to her ears in half smothered tones. 
She waited to hear no more. She sprang from her bed, 
and putting her mouth to the crack in the door, called 
out : 

" Oh, please, Mr. Burglar, do go away ! Take any- 
thing you want ; there's plenty of silver down-stairs, 
and my watch and jewel case are in the cabinet with 
the silver trimmings. Take them all ; you are welcome 
to them, indeed you are ; and if there's anything else 
down-stairs — but please don't kill me, Josiah would feel 
so bad — and, and — if you are going down be careful 
not to hurt your feet — " 

But she was interrupted by a terrific howl of : " Great 
guns! Martha, it's me. What in thunder ails these 
stairs ? Some darned thing or another has cut my feet 
all to pieces. Open the door, quick, can't you ? I'm 
bleeding to death ! Quick, I say ! Ain't you got no 



THE BURGLAR ALARM. 129 

sense ! Let a fellow stand here and lose his life blood 
because you're afraid of some fool burglar ! I want to 
see what the blasted thing is. I hope I ain't poisoned. 
Maybe it's a scorpion or a tarantula, or — or — " 

" Oh, no ! Josiab, it's only the burglar alarm. You 
see, I — " began Mrs. Fillisy, throwing the door open, 
and letting the light fall on Josiah, who stood midway 
on the stairs, vainly endeavoring to hold both feet in 
his hands at once. 

" Oh ! oh ! oh ! Confound your old burglar alarm ! 
What in creation's name is it anyway ? It's killing me. 
1 can't stand nor sit down, nor — nor anything." 

" Climb on to the bannister, Josiah, I did." 

" Climb on to the bannister, woman ! And so you've 
been play in 5 circus while I have been away. I thought 
when I married you I had found a woman of discretion ; 
but it seems I was mistaken. You're like all the rest. 
Sliding down the bannister, indeed ! Now tell me what 
all this confounded nonsense means," said Josiah, perch- 
ing himself astride the bannister, and eying his wife 
malignantly. 

" Oh, Josiah, indeed I haven't been playing circus 
at all," exclaimed Mrs. F., bursting into tears. " I — I 
— was afraid, and so I — I — invented a burglar alarm, 
and — and — I never dreamed of your coming home — 
but I thought if a burglar should get in, it would pre- 
vent his getting upstairs, and — and I guess it would." 
And she smiled ruefully upon the barbed points at her 
feet. 

" Stars and garters ! Prophets and conjurers ! When 
will women cease to be fools ?" and the representative of 
the world's wisdom shifted uneasily in his enforced po- 
sition. 



130 AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. 

" Will you kindly tell me, oh, great inventor, how 
am I to get up these stairs ? My stockings are already 
plastered with blood to my poor feet !" 

" Climb up the railing on the outside, like this," and 
she showed him, by example, how easily he could gain 
the upper landing ! When once there, he turned spite- 
fully to his wife with the words : 

" Martha Ann Fillisy, you are the biggest fool I ever 
saw ! If you ever invent another thing, I'll shut you up 
in a lunatic asylum !" Birch Arnold. 



AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. 
IN TWO PARTS. 



PART I. 

"pOME right in. How are you, Fred ? 
V^ Find a chair, and get a light." 

" Well, old man, recovered yet 

From the Mather's jam last night?" 

" Didn't dance. The German's old." 

" Didn't you ? I had to lead- 
Awful bore ! Did you go home ?" 

" No. Sat out with Molly Meade. 
Jolly little girl she is — 

Said she didn't care to dance, 
'D rather sit and talk to me — 

Then she gave me such a glance ! 

" So, when you had cleared the room, 
And impounded all the chairs, 

Having nowhere else, we two 
Took possession of the stairs. 



AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. 131 

" I was on the lower step, 

Molly, on the next above, 
Gave me her bouquet to hold, 

Asked me to undo her glove. 
Then, of course, I squeezed her hand, 

Talked about my wasted life ; 
1 Ah ! if I could only win 

Some true woman for my wife, 
How I'd love her — work for her ! 

Hand in hand through life we'd walk — 
No one ever cared for me — • 

Takes a girl, that kind of talk. 

" Then, you know, I used my eyes — 

She believed me, every word — 
Said I ' mustn't talk so ' — Jove ! 

Such a voice you never heard. 
Gave me some symbolic flower, — 

Had a meaning, oh ! so sweet, — 
Don't know where it is, I'm sure ; 

Must have dropped it in the street. 

" How I spooned ! And she — ha ! ha ! — 

Well, I know it wasn't right — 
But she pitied me so much 

That I — kissed her — pass a light !" 

PART II. 

* Molly Meade, well I declare ! 

Who'd have thought of seeing you, 
After what occurred last night, 

Out here on the Avenue ? 



132 AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. 

Oh, you awful ! awful girl ! 

There, don't blush ; I saw it all." 
" Saw all what ?" " Ahem ! last night— 

At the Mather's— in the hall." 

" Oh, you horrid — where were you ? 

Wasn't he the biggest goose ! 
Most men must be caught, but he 

Ran his own neck in the noose. 

" I was almost dead to dance, 

I'd have done it if I could, 
But old Gray said I must stop, 

And I promised ma I would. 
So I looked up sweet, and said 

That I'd rather talk to him ; 
Hope he didn't see me laugh, 

Luckily the lights were dim. 

" My, how he did squeeze my hand ! 

And he looked up in my face 
With his lovely, big brown eyes — 

Really it's a dreadful case. 

" * Earnest !' — I should think he was ! 

Why, I thought I'd have to laugh 
When he kissed a flower he took, 

Looking, oh ! like such a calf. 
I suppose he's got it now 

In a wine-glass on his shelves ; 
It's a mystery to me 

Why men will deceive themselves. 

" * Saw him kiss me ?' — Oh, you wretch ! 

Well, he begged so hard for one — 
And I thought there'd no one know — 

So I — let him, just for fun. 



burdock's music-box. 133 

" I know it really wasn't right 

To trifle w T ith his feelings, dear, 
But men are such stuck-up things ; 

He'll recover — never fear." 

George A. Baker. 



BURDOCK'S MUSIC-BOX. 



LAST Christmas Miss Burdock's admirer presented 
her with a handsome little music-box, and the 
family ear has been tickled ever since with half-a-dozen 
of the latest popular agonies. 

Tuesday night they had company, and the music-box, 
after doing gloriously for awhile, suddenly collapsed at 
the first verse of the " Mulligan Guards," leaving the 
balance of that gallant command in a sort of musical 
purgatory. 

The next morning Miss Burdock dressed her face 
with its company expression, and coaxed her paternal 
to take the box with him when he went to business and 
have it put in order, and on his finally consenting under 
protest, wrapped it up neatly, placed it in his overcoat 
pocket, and hustled him off. 

He caught a Fulton Avenue car, nodded to a couple 
of business acquaintances, secured a seat, and was in 
the act of opening the morning paper, when the music- 
box suddenly found its voice again and proceeded to 
render the remaining verses of the " Mulligan Guards." 

The passengers dropped their papers, stared around 
at one another, and finally, tracing the music to Bur- 
dock, focused their eyes upon him, nudged each other, 
and laughed. 



134 burdock's music-box. 

" No music, gentlemen, 'lowed in these cars," called 
out the conductor, sternly, coming in to collect a fare, 
just as the box rang out clear and loud with the chorus. 

There was a perfect shout of laughter, in which 
everybody except Burdock and the conductor joined, as 
the box suddenly changed its tune and came out as 
strong as a circus band with " Meet Me in the Park, 
Love." 

"Stop that music. I won't have such foolishness 
goiog on in this car," yelled the conductor, scrutinizing 
the passengers suspiciously from the rear platform. 

" Confound the infernal thing, I wish it was at the 
bottom of the Ked Sea !" muttered Burdock, very red 
in the face and uncomfortable. 

A minute later, as the music-box was about plunging 
into a third song, the conductor darted in, slapped Bur- 
dock on the shoulder, and said, excitedly : 

" I've got you at last. Now you just stop it, that's 
all I" 

" Stop it yourself, if you want to," said Burdock, 
angrily. 

The conductor frothed and fumed, looked under the 
seat and behind Burdock, but could see nothing, yet all 
the while the box was everlastingly howling out " Ei- 
leen Alanna," as if its heart would break. By the 
time the car reached the ferry, Burdock was in a cold 
perspiration, the irate conductor had checked off seven 
passengers too many, and was tearing his hair on the 
platform, and the box, after going through its entire 
collection of tunes, looked as quiet and innocent as a 
rubber baby. 

It required Burdock to use up all his spare stock of 
self-control to prevent him from heaving it into the 



burdock's music-box. 135 

river, and it was with a sigh of relief that he handed it 
over to be fixed. 

Saturday, on his way home, he stopped at the place 
where he had left it, and finding it repaired, put it in 
the pocket of his overcoat, and started off home, forget- 
ting all about it on his arrival at the house. 

Sunday all the family turned out for church, and 
Burdock had ushered them all in, closed the pew door, 
hung his overcoat over it, took up a hymn-book, and 
was glancing around complacently, when the fogotten 
music-box in his overcoat pocket all at once struck up 
" Lanigan's Ball." 

The minister dropped the notices he was looking over 
and looked blankly around ; the deacons sprang up 
like Jack-in-the-Box and glared in every direction; 
the congregation twisted their heads, craned their necks, 
and stared wondering] y at the choir, and the choir 
pulled away the curtains that hid them, and stared idi- 
otically back in return. The Burdocks alone kept their 
eyes resolutely glued to the front, w T hile their faces as- 
sumed the fashionable cardinal hue, and Burdock could 
be heard muttering fragments of emphatic language 
seldom heard inside of a gospel shop. 

After playing one verse the melody ceased, and the 
Burdocks' hearts, which had been standing still, beat 
once more ; the excitement died away, and everything 
was quiet again. The minister arose, and was in the 
act of giving out the text, when a lady, who was late, 
sailed up the aisle, and, chancing to brush against Bur- 
dock's overcoat, started the music-box off into a perfect 
fury of " Tommy, Sit Down by Your Aunty." 

The minister paused, and frowned severely; the dea- 
cons shot up from their seats as if they were sitting on 



136 burdock's music-box. 

springs ; the congregation tittered, and Burdock felt 
sick all over him as he made a savage kick at his coat, 
which had the effect of changing the tune, and it pealed 
forth now " The Night Before Larry Was Stretched," 
with the variations. 

Burdock felt that every eye in the church was watch- 
ing him as he made another side kick at it ; a subdued 
whirr followed, and he was congratulating himself on 
having hopelessly ruined it, when it suddenly broke out 
louder than a troupe of minstrels, with the inspiring 
strains of the " Mulligan Guards." 

By the time it had played two verses and was com- 
mencing the third, five deacons had arrived at the pew 
door, and were interviewing Burdock, while the entire 
congregation were standing up on their toes to have a 
look at him. Burdock tried to explain, but seven new 
deacons came up and accused him of sacrilege and des- 
ecration of the church. 

" Go to thunder, the whole caboodle of you !" he ex- 
claimed, climbing over the back of the seat and making 
for the door. 

One of the deacons followed him with his hat and 
overcoat, the music-box playing, " When Johnny Comes 
Marching Home," right merrily, as the grave-faced dea- 
con carried it at arm's length down the middle aisle. 

Burdock and his family are attending another church 
now, and the music-box is buried under four tons of an- 
thracite coal in the cellar. 



FIRST ADVENTURES IN ENGLAND. 137 

FIRST ADVENTURES IN ENGLAND. 



YER spakin' of musther was a-moindin , me of Mick 
Murphy and Dan Collins, two frinds of moine, 
who came over to England for the rapin' of the harvist, 
and was walkin' on the quays of this town. And moind 
ye now, nather Micky nor Danny had iver been out of 
the corragus of the town of Tipperary in all their born 
days. They were goin' along the strate, whin Danny 
sees " 'Ristorant " writ up over a shop ; " See now," says 
he, " that's a place to ate ;" and in they both goes, and 
thin, sir, they sees a waither with a towel over his arm, 
and says Danny, says he, " What kin we get to ate ?" 
" Anything at all," says the waither ; " Thin bring me a 
plate of mate," says Danny ; so in comes the waither 
with a plate of mate and a large bowl of musther. 
"What's to pay for the mate?" says Danny. "A 
shillin', sir," says the waither. "And what's that?" 
says he, a-pointin' to the bowl. " That's musther," 
says the waither. "And what do yez do with it?" 
" Why, yez ates it with the mate, to be sure," says he. 
" And what's to pay for it ?" " Nothin' at all," says 
the waither. Thin Danny looked at Micky, and Micky 
looked at Danny, and they both winked. Afther 
awhile the waither turned his back, and says Danny, 
says he, " Micky," says he, " we'll pocket the mate for 
the journey and ate the stuff they gives for nothin'." 
And with that Micky rowls up the mate in his hand- 
kercher and puts it in the crown of his hat. All this 
toime Danny kept stirrin' up the musther, and afther 
awhile he opens his mouth and takes a great dollop of 
it; down goes his head, and the tears come runnin' 



138 ETHIOPIOMANIA. 

down out of his eyes. Micky looked up and says he, 
" Danny," says he, " what does be the matther with ye ?" 
Danny wouldn't let on at all, at all, but says he, 
"Whiniver I think of the death of my poor great- 
grandfather, that was kilt at the Battle of the Boyne, I 
can't kape from cryin' at all, at all." " Och, don't take 
on with ye like that," says Micky ; " see now, we are 
over in England, and we'll make a power of money at 
the rapin' before harvist is over." All this toime 
Danny kept stirrin' up the musther, and afther awhile 
he hands the spoon to Micky. Micky takes a spoon- 
ful, too ; down goes his head, and the tears come run- 
nin' down out of his eyes. Danny looks up, and says 
he, " Micky," says he, " what does be the matther with 
ye?" " Faix," says Micky, "I war thinkin' what a great 
pitty it war that ye warn't kilt along with yer great- 
grandfather at the Battle of the Boyne." 



ETHIOPIOMANIA. 



[Vers de Societe (new style). Dedicated to a fashionable young lady 
who plays the banjo.] 

PIANO put away 
In de garret for to stay ; 
De banjo is de music dat de gals am crazed about, 
De songs dat now dey choose 
Am 'spired by de colored muse, 
An' de ole kind o' poeckry am all played out. 

Chorus. — Oh, Maud Elaine, 

Sweet as sugar-cane ! 
Hush dat music, let my poor heart go. 
Fo' hit's sweeter dan de band 
To heah yo' little hand 
A-plunk-plunk-plunkin' on de ole banjo. 



THE IRISHMAN'S PANORAMA. 139 

I ain't from de Souf ; 

But yo' pretty, pretty mouf 
Done took to singin' darkey songs in such angelic tones. 

Dat jist fo' yo' sake 

I's a goin' fo' to take 
Some lessons on de tamborine, an' learn to play de bones. 

Oh, when Maudie sings 

And picks 'pon de strings, 
'Twould charm a deaf-and-dummy, or a possum from a 
tree. 

She holds dat banjo so, 

In her arms as white as snow, 
I'd gib a half a dollah if dat instrument was me ! 

So play, play an' sing, 
For de banjo am de king, 
Its music brings de belles an' beaux a knockin' at de 
doah. 

We'll dance heel and toe, 
Till de lamp burns low, 
An' de Turkey carpet's worn away from off de parlor 
floah. Henry Tyrrell. 



THE IRISHMAN'S PANORAMA. 



LADIES AND GINTLEMIN : In the foreground 
over there ye'll obsarve Vinegar Hill, an' should 
yer be goin' by that way some day, yer moight. be 
fatigued, an' if yer are yer'll foind at the fut of the 
hill a nate little cot kept by a man named McCarty, 
who, by the way, is as foine a lad as you'll mate in a 
day's march. I see by the hasp on the door that 



140 

McCarty is out, or I'd take yes in an' introduce yes. 
A foine, ginerous, noble feller is this McCarty. Shure 
an ? if lie had but the wan peratie he'd give yes the half 
of that, and phat's more, he'd thank ye for takin' it. 
(James, move the crank! Larry, music on the bag- 
pipes !) 

Ladies and Gintlemin: We've now arrived at a 
beautiful spot, situated about twenty miles this side o' 
Limerick. To the left over there yer'U see a hut, by 
the side of which is sated a lady and gintleman : well, 
as I was goin' that way wan day, I heard the following 
conversation betwixt him an' her. Says she to him : 
" James, it's a shame for yer to be tratin' me so ; d'ye 
moind the time yer used to come to me father's castle 
a-beggin'?" "Yer father's castle— me? Well, thin! 
ye could shtand on the outside of yer father's castle, 
an' stick yer arm down the chimney an' pick praties 
out of the pot, an' niver a partition betwixt you and 
the pigs but sthraw." (Move the crank, etc.) 

Ladies and Gintlemin : We have now arrived at the 
beautiful an' classical lakes of Killarney. There's a 
curious legend connected wid dese lakes that I must 
relate to you. It is, that every evenin' at four o'clock 
in the afternoon a beautiful swan is seen to make its 
appearance, an' while movin' transcendentally an' 
glidelessly along, ducks its head, skips under the water, 
an' you'll not see him till the next afternoon. (Turn 
the crank, etc.) 

Ladies and Gintlemin : We have now arrived at 
another beautiful spot, situated about thirteen and a 
half miles this side of Cork. This is a grate place, 
noted for sportsmin. Wanst, while sthoppin' over there 
at the hotel de Finney, the following tilt of a conversa- 



TH£ NAUGHTY GREEK GIRL. 141 

tion occurred betwixt Mr. Muldooney, the waiter, and 
mesilf. I says to him, says I, " Mully, old boy, will you 
have the kindness to fetch me the mustard ?" and he was 
a long time bringin' it, so I opportuned him for kapin' 
me. An' says he to me, says he, " Mr. McCune " (that's 
me), " I notice that you take a grate deal of mustard 
wid your niate." " I do," says I. Says he, " I notice 
you take a blame sight of mate wid your mustard." 
(Move the crank ! Larry, " Finnigin's Wake.") 

Ladies and Gintlemin : We now skhip acrost the 
broad Atlantic to a wonderful sphot in America, situa- 
ted a few miles from Chinchinnatti, called the Falls of 
Niagara. While lingerin' here wan day, I saw a young 
couple, evidently very sweet on aich other. Av coorse 
I tuk no notice of phat they were saying but I couldn't 
help listenin' to the followin' extraordinary conversa- 
tion. Says he to her: "Isn't it wonderful to see that 
tremindous amount of water comin' down over that ter- 
rible precipice." " Yis, darlint," says she, " but wouldn't 
it be far more wonderful to see the same tremindous 
body of water a-goin' up that same precipice ?" (Music 
on the pipes.) Jas. Burdette. 



THE NAUGHTY GREEK GIRL. 



MISS ALPHA, though she led her class, 
Was yet a most unlovely lass : 
She had a little sister Theta, 
And she would often bang and Beta, 
And push and pinch, and pound and pelt her, 
And many a heavy blow she Delta ; 
So that the kitten, e'en would Mu, 
When Theta' s sufferings she Nu. 



142 THE NAUGHTY GREEK GIRL. 

This Alpha was so bad to Theta, 

That every time she chanced to meet her 

She looked as though she longed to Eta ; 

And oft' against the wall she jammed her, 

And oft' she took a stick and Lambda ; 

And for the pain and tears she brought her 

She pitied her not one Iota ; 

But with a sly and wicked eye 

. Would only say, " Oh, fiddle, Phi !" 

Then Theta cried with noisy clamor, 
And ran and told her grief to Gamma, 
And Gamma, with a pitying Psi, 
Would give the little girl some Pi, 
And say, " Now darling mustn't Khi !" 

Two Irish lads of ruddy cheek, 

Were living just across the creek — 

Their names, Omicron and Omego ; 

The one was small, the other bigger. 

For Alpha, so demure and " striking," 

Omego took an ardent liking ; 

And Mike, when first he chanced to meet her, 

Fell deep in love with little Theta ; 

And oft at eve the boys would go 

And on the pleasant waters Rho. 

So when the little hapless Theta 
Nu Alpha was about to Beta, 
She down upon the bank would Zeta 
And cry aloud and shout like fun — 
" Run, Mike ! run, Micky ! Omicron !" 



LOVE AT THE SEASIDE. 143 

LOVE AT THE SEASIDE. 



SUMMER at the seaside. At the base of the cliffs a 
beautiful girl, who is as handsome as she is pretty, 
sits sketching, sits catching the soft sea-breeze that floats 
from the sea. Her cheek is like the peach, her brow 
like rich, sweet cream, and he whose form is stretched at 
her feet casts time and again, and frequently, a longing 
look upon the peaches and the cream. His marble brow 
is as white as snow ; his raven locks are black. 

"Do you smell the smell of the sea?" he murmurs, 
and blushes as he murmurs. 

Like the ripple of a rill over rocks her laughter bub- 
bles forth, and she laughed. 

" I love the odoriferous odors of old ocean/' she rip- 
pled. 

" Do they remind you of me ?" he softly asked. 

" Ah !" she whispered, " when you are away, they 
always tell me that you are absent." 

" How true," he said, w T hile his eyes dreamily sought 
the far off, " we are never here when we are there." 

And so they sat, weaving sweet words into sweeter 
sentences, until the sun sank below the horizon's rim 
and the auriferous waves shone like gold. 

" Behold the reclining orb of day," said the fair 
sketcher — she was sketching for a fair — " does it not re- 
mind you of a sunset ?" 

" More than aught else," he answered, " only the sun 
never sets here." 

" O !" she sighed, spasmodically, " are we in Great 
Britain ?" 

" No," he replied, slowly arising and winding his arm 



144 LOVE AT THE SEASIDE. 

about her, " but at the romantic seaside the sun never 
sets. -It reclines." 

" As the son does so does the daughter," she faltered, 
and her head gently reclined upon the lappel of his 
marseilles vest. 

" The little wavelets kiss the sands that sparkle at our 
feet," he exclaimed, as he sawed the air with the one 
arm still left at his disposal, and his mellow voice rang 
out in a pulpit-oratorical tone ; " the wavelets kiss the 
sands, and the parting sunbeams kiss the brow of the 
cliff that guards the shore, and w 

" Ah !" she interrupted, in accents so tremulous and 
low that they were scarcely perceptible, much less 
audible, " happy wavelets; thrice happy sunbeams!" 

Her terra-cotta hat was tipped back, temptingly dis- 
closing her fair face ; her closed eyes w r ere shut, and 
from her half-open mouth a suppressed sigh escaped be- 
tween her parted lips. 

It was a case calling for prompt and immediate action, 
and the young man, to the credit of his sex be it re- 
corded, was equal to the emergency. Some men would 
have faltered, others would have hesitated, and still 
others would have held back, but this young man was 
never known to quail — except on toast. With a firm- 
ness only acquired by long practice, he tightened . his 
grip upon the form that lay confidingly upon his arm ; 
he gave the terra-cotta hat an extra tip, and then wip- 
ing off his lips with a highly-scented and richly-per- 
fumed handkerchief, he planted a royal kiss right where 
it would do the most good. 

Slowly she opened her eyes, like one recovering from 
a dream, or awakening from a sleep, and smiling feebly 
said : 



LOVE AT THE SEASIDE. 145 

" I feel better now." 

Silence stole upon the scene, and all was still. Quiet 
reigned ; no sounds were heard. She listened only to 
the thumping of his heart, and was satisfied. But not 
he, for hunger was gnawing at his soul. 

"Ah!" he lowly breathed, "I have my longings." 

" Do you sigh for, O ! do you sigh for the in- 
finite?" 

" No," he answered, " I don't cipher that way this 
time. My heart's yearning is for clams. Alas ! I can 
live upon romance through all the shimmering after- 
noon ; I can subsist upon sentiment until the sentinel 
stars set their watch in the sky and the sweet tintinnab- 
ulations of the supper-bell vibrate upon the evening air, 
then hunger asserts itself, and when I get hungry I want 
to eat." 

" How strange !" she said ; " how fearfully and won- 
derfully made is man !" 

Then taking her lily-white hand in his, he gazed into 
her eyes as though he would pierce her very soul with 
his glance. 

" Fair creature," he gasped, " do you never eat ?" 

" Perish the thought," she replied, with a shudder. 
"Sometimes I partake of refreshments, but I never 
eat." 

Slowly, with tardy steps, and somewhat leisurely, they 
strolled across the gleaming sand to where the white- 
washed front of the hostelry strove to outstare the sea. 
There the delicate girl sought the refectory and called 
for clams, which she swept with a charming grace be- 
tween her rosebud lips, and then she called for clams. 
These also went over from the minority and joined the 
silent majority, after which she musingly wiped her 
% 10 



146 THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZED. 

pretty mouth upon a scarlet-fringed napkin and called 
for clams. 

A young man gazed upon her through the lattice in 
speechless admiration. 

" She is partaking of refreshments," he whispered to 
himself. 

That night he sat upon the edge of his bed, fanning 
mosquitoes away with one hand, and casting up countless 
rows of figures upon the backs of old letters with the 
other. 

" I never could stand the racket," he said at last. 

When the mists crept up from the sea, in the morn- 
ing, he had departed. He was no longer there. He had 
gone. 



THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZED. 



IT was at the corner of Woodward Avenue and Con- 
gress Street, and the time was ten o'clock in the 
forenoon. A citizen who stands solid at two hundred 
pounds was walking along with bright eyes and the 
birds singing in his heart, when all at once he found 
himself looking up to the cloudy heavens, and a voice 
up the street seemed to say : — 

" Did you see the old duffer strike that icy spot and 
claw for grass ?" 

Then another voice down the street seemed to say — 

" You bet I did ! He's lyin' there yit, but he'd git 
right up if he knew how big his foot looked !" 

The solid citizen did get up. The first thing he saw 
the beautiful city of Detroit spread out before him. 
The next thing was a slim man with bone-colored 



THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZED. 147 

whiskers, who was leaning against a building and 
laughing as if his heart would break. 

" I can knock your jaw off in three minutes !" ex- 
claimed the citizen, as he fished for the end of his 
broken suspender. 

The slim man didn't deny it. He hadn't time. He 
had his hands full to attend to his laughing. The solid 
man finally found the suspender, counted up four misr 
sing buttons and his vest split up the back, and slowly 
went on, looking back and wondering if he could be 
held for damages to the side-walk. He had been in his 
office about ten minutes, and had just finished telling 
a clerk that an express team knocked him down, 
when in came the slim man with bone-colored whiskers. 
The solid man recognized him and put on a frown, but 
the other held out his hand and said : — 

" Mister, I came to beg your pardon. You fell on the 
walk and I laughed at you, but — ha ! ha ! ha ! — upon 
my soul I couldn't help it. It was the-^ha ! ha ! ha ! — 
funniest sight I ever saw, and — oh ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ha I 
ha ! — I couldn't help laughing !" 

" I want none o' your penitence and none o' .your 
company !" sharply replied the solid man, and the other 
went out. 

In about an hour the " fallen man " had to go over 
to the express office. The man with the bone-colored 
whiskers was there with a package, and he reached out 
his hand and began : — 

" Sir, I ask your forgiveness, I know what belongs to 
dignity and good manners, but — but — ha ! ha ! — when I 
saw your heels 'shoot out and your shoulders — ha ! ha ! 
ha ! — double up, I had to — ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 
ah-h-h-h r 



148 THE MAN WHO APOLOGIZED. 

" I'll lick you if ever I get a good chance !" remarked 
the citizen, but yet the man sat down on a box and 
laughed till the tears came. 

In the afternoon as the citizen was about to take a 
car for home some one touched him on the elbow. It was 
the man with the bone-colored whiskers. His face had 
a very serious, earnest look, and he began : 
% " Citizen, I am positively ashamed of myself. I am 
going to settle in Detroit, and shall see you often. I 
want to ask your forgiveness for laughing at you this 
morning." 

He seemed so serious that the solid man began to 
relax his stern look, and he was about to extend his 
hand when the other continued : — 

" You see we are — are all — ha ! ha ! liable to accident. 
I, myself, have often — ha ! ha ! ha ! — struck an icy spot 
and — ho ! ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! — gone down to grass — ah 
ha ! ho ! ha ! ho ! ha !" 

The solid citizen withdrew his hand, braced his feet, 
drew his breath and struck to mash the other fine. His 
foot slipped, and next he knew he was plowing his nose 
into the hard snow. When he got up the man with the 
bone-colored whiskers was hanging to a hitching-post, 
and as black in the face as an old hat. The citizen 
should have killed him then and there, but he didn't. 
He made for a car like a bear going over a brush fence, 
and his efforts to look innocent and unconcerned after 
he sat down broke his other suspender dead in two. 
Such is life. No man can tell what any icy spot will 
bring forth. — Detroit Free Press. 



THE BOY AND THE FROG. 149 

THE BOY AND TfiE FROG. 



SEE the frog, the slimy, green frog, 
Dozing away on that old rotten log 
Seriously wondering 
What caused the sundering 
Of the tail that he wore when a wee pollywog. 

See the boy, the freckled schoolboy, 
Filled with a wicked love to annoy, 

Watching the frog 

Perched on the log 
With feelings akin to tumultuous joy. 

See the rock, the hard, flinty rock, 

Which the freckle-faced boy at the frog doth sock, 

Conscious he's sinning, 

Yet gleefully grinning 
At the likely result of its terrible shock. 

See the grass, the treacherous grass, 
Slip from beneath his feet ! Alas ! 

Into the mud 

With a dull thud 
He falls, and rises a slimy mass. 

Now, see the frog, the hilarious frog, 
Dancing a jig on his old rotten log, 

Applying his toes 

To his broad, blunt nose, 
As he laughs at the boy stuck fast in the bog. 



150 SHE REFERRED HIM TO HER PA. 

Look at the switch, the hickory switch, 
Waiting to make that schoolboy twitch. 
When his mother knows 
The state of his clothes 
Won't he raise his voice to its highest pitch ? 



SHE REFERRED HIM TO HER PA. 

n , — 

Her fairy form, 

Her modest face, 

Her charming air, 

And winning grace 

Enchanted all 

The lads in town, 

And each one loved 

Jemima Brown. 

She oft was called 

The village pride, 

And for her love 
• I long had sighed. 

I said I'd know 
No joy in life till she'd 
Consent to be my wife. She 
Blushed quite red and said 
" Oh, la ;" and then referred me to 

Her pa. His manner was both rude 

And rough, and when he spoke his tones 

Were gruff. I asked him then in accents 

Bland to give to me his daughter's hand. 

For answer he gave me his foot encased 

Within this cowhide boot! 

— Somerville Journal. 



UNCLE CEPHAS' YARN. 151 



UNCLE CEPHAS' YARN. 



" m ALKING of preachers/' said Caleb Parker, " re- 
-L minds me of a story they tell of Uncle Cephas 
Bascom, of North Haven. Uncle Cephas was a shoe- 
maker, and he never went to sea much, only to anchor 
his skiff in the Narrows abreast of his house, and catch 
a mess of scup, or to pole a load of salt-hay from San- 
quitt Island. But he used to visit his married daughter, 
in Vermont, and up there they knew he come from the 
seaboard, and they used to call him ' Captain Bascom.' 
So, one time when he was there, they hed a Sabbath- 
school concert, and nothing would do but * Captain 
Bascom ' must talk to the boys, and tell a sea-yarn, and 
draw a moral, the way the Deacon, here, does." The 
Deacon gravely smiled, and stroked his beard. " Well, 
Uncle Cephas was ruther pleased with his name of 
1 Captain Bascom,' and he didn't like to go back on it, 
and so he flaxed round to git up something. It seems 
he had heard a summer boarder talk in Sabbath school, 
at Northhaven ; he told how a poor boy minded his 
mother, and then got to tend store, and then kep' store 
himself, and then he jumped it on them : ' That poor 
boy,' says he, * now stands before you.' So Uncle 
Cephas thought him up a similar yarn. Well, he had 
never spoke in meeting before, and he hemmed and 
hawed some, but he got on quite well while he was tel- 
ling about a certain poor boy, and all that, and how the 
boy when he grew up was out at sea, in an open boat, 
and saw a great sword-fish making for the boat, Hail 
Columbia, and bound to stave right through her and 
sink her, and how this man he took an oar, and give it 



152 BENEATH HER WINDOW. 

a swing, and broke the critter's sword square off; and 
then Uncle Cephas, — he'd begun to git a little flustered, 
he stopped short, and waved his arms, and says he, 
1 Boys, what do you think ? That sword-fish now stands 
before you.' 

" I cal'late that brought the house down." 

— Century Magazine. 



BENEATH HER WINDOW. 



HE thought to serenade his love, 
And, pausing 'neath her casement, 
He warbled forth his sweetest lays 
In humble self-abasement, — 

Of moonlight, constancy, and love, 
And all things true and tender, 

And called on sleep and happy dreams 
That instant to attend her. 

A thrill of hope pervades his breast, — 
The lattice trembles slightly ! 

But what is this that meets his gaze — 
This form uncouth, unsightly ? 

A voice of dread falls on his ear, 
A voice so cracked and toothless, 

It shatters all his hopes of bliss 
With touch severe and ruthless. 

" A very pretty tune, young man ; 

I'm much obleeged ye come ! 
Now, while you're at it, please to sing 

1 The Old Folks at Home !' " 



THE PHOTOGRAPHS. 153 

THE PHOTOGRAPHS. 



TO-DAY I was let sit up, tucked up in a quilt in a 
arm-chare. I soon got tired o' that, so I ast Betty 
to get me a glass o' ice-water to squench my thirst, an' 
when she was gone I cut an' run, an' went into Susan's 
room to look at all them fotografs of nice young men 
she's got there in a drawer. 

The girls was all down in the parlor, 'cos Miss Wat- 
son had come to call. Betty she came a huntin' me, 
but I hid in the closet behind a ole hoop-skirt. I come 
out when she went away, and had a real good time. 
Some o' them fotografs was written on the back, like 
this i " Conseated fop !" " Oh, ain't he sweet ?" " He 
ast me, but I wouldn't have him." u A perfeck darl- 
ing !" " What a mouth !" " Portrait of a donkey !" 

I kep about two dozen o' them I knew, to have some 
fun when I got well. I shut the drawer so Sue wouldn't 
notice they was took. I >felt as if I could not bare to 
go back to that nasty room, I was so tired of it, an' I 
thought I'd pass my time a playing I was a young lady. 
I found a lot o' little curls m the buro, wich I stuck on 
all around my forehead with a bottle of mewsiledge, 
and then I seen some red stuff on a sawcer, wich I 
rubbed onto my cheaks. When I was all fixed up I slid 
down the bannisters plump against Miss Watson, wot 
was sayin' good-bye to my sisters. Such a hollerin' as 
they made ! 

Miss Watson she turned me to the light, an' sez she, 
as sweet as pie : 

"Where did you get them pretty red cheeks, 
Geordie?" 



154 THE PHOTOGRAPHS. 

Susan she made a sign, but I didn't know it. 

" I found some red stuff in Sue's drawer," sez I, and 
she smiled kind o' hateful, and said . 

" Oh !" 

My sister says she is an awful gossip, wich will tell 
all over town that they paint, wich they don't, 'cause 
that sawcer was gust to make roses on card-bord, wich 
is all right. , 

Sue was so mad she boxed my ears. 

" Aha, missy !" sez I to myself, " you don't guess 
about them fotografs wot I took out o' your drawer !" 

Some folks think little boys' ears are made on pur- 
pose to be boxed — my sisters do. If they knew what 
dark and desperate thoughts come into little boys' 
minds, they'd be more careful — it riles 'em up like 
pokin sticks into a mud puddel. 

I laid low — but beware to-morrow ! 

They let me come down to breakfast this mornin'. 

I've got those pictures all in my pockets, you bet 
your life. 

" Wot makes your pockets stick out so ?" ast Lily, 
when I was a waiting a chance to slip out unbeknone 

" Oh, things," sez I, an' she laughed. 

" I thought mebbe you'd got your books and cloathes 
packed up in 'em," sez she, " to run away an' be a Injun 
warryor." 

I didn't let on anything, but ansered her : 

"I guess I'll go out in the backyard an' play a 
spell." 

Well, I got off down town, an' had a lot of fun. I 
called on all the aboriginals of them fotografs. 

" Hello, Georgie ! Well agen ?" said the first feller 
I stopped to see. 



THE PHOTOGRAPHS. 155 

Oh, my ' when I get big enuff I'll hope my mustaches 
won't be waxed like his'n ! He's in a store, an' I got 
him to give me a nice cravat, an' he ast me " Was my 
sisters well ?" so I fished out his fotograf, and gave it to 
him. 

It was the one that had " Conseated Fop !" writ on 
the back. The girls had drawed his musttaches out twict 
as long with a pencil, an' made him smile all acrost his 
face. He got as red as fire, an' then he skowled at me. 

" Who did that, you little rascal !" 

" I guess the spirits did it," I said, as onest as a owl, 
an' I went away quick cause he looked mad. 

The nex plaice I come to was a grocery store, where a 
nuther young man lived. He had red hair an' freckles, 
but he seemed to think hisself a beauty. I said : 

"Hello, Peters!" 

He said : 

"The same yourself, Master George. Do you like 
raisins? Help yourself." 

Boys wot has three pretty sisters allers does get 
treted well, I notiss. I took a big hanful of raisins an' 
a few peanuts, an' sot on the counter eating 'em, till all 
at oncest, as if I jest thought of it, I took out his foto- 
graf an' squinted at it, an sez . 

" I do declare it looks like you." 

" Let me see it," sez he. 

I wouldn't for a long time, then I gave it to him. 
The girls had made freckles all over it. This was the 
one they wrote on its back, " He asked me, but I 
wouldn't have him." They'd painted his hair as red as a 
rooster's comb. He got quite pale when he seen it clost. 

" It's a burning shame," sez I, " for them young ladies 
to make fun of their bows." 



156 THE PHOTOGRAPHS. 

" Clear out," sez Peters. 

I grabbed a nuther bunch o' raisins an' quietly dis- 
appeared. I tell you he was rathy ! 

Mister Courtenay he was a lawyer, he's got a offis on 
the square by the cort-house. I knew him very well, 
'cause he comes to our house offen. He's a awful 
queer-lookin' chap, an' so stuck up you'd think he was 
tryin' to see if the moon was made o' green cheese, like 
folks sez it is, the way he keeps it in the air. He's got 
a depe, depe voice way down in his boots. My harte 
beat wen I got in there, I was that fritened ; but I was 
bound to see the fun out, so I ast him : 

" Is the What is It on exabishun to-day ?" 

" Wot do you mean ?" sez he, a lookin' down on me. 

" Sue said if I would come to Mister Courtenay's 
offis I would see wot this is the picture of," sez I, givin' 
him his own fotograf inskibed, " The Wonderful What 
is It." 

It's awful funny to see their faces wen they look at 
their own cards. 

In about a minit he up with his foot wich I dodged 
just in time. I herd him muttering suthin' 'bout 
" suing for scandal." I think myself I oughter arrest 
her for 'salt an' battery, boxing my ears. I wisht he 
would sue Sue, 'twould serve her right. 

I'll not get to bed fore midnight if I write enny 
more. I'm yawning now like a dying fish. So, farewell 
my diry till the next time. I give them cards all back 
fore dinner-time. There'll be a row I expect. I've 
laughed myself almost to fits a thinkin' of the feller 
wot I give " The Portrait of a Donkey " to. He looked 
so cress fallen. I do believe he cried. They were 
teazin' ma to let 'em give a party nex week wen I got 



a woman's "no." 157 

home to dinner. I don't believe one of them young 
gentlemen will come to it ; the girls have give 'em all 
away. I don't care wuth a cent. Wot for do they take 
such libertys with my ears if they want me to be good 
to 'em. 

P. S. — I bet their left ears are burning wuss'n ever 
mine did ! 



A WOMAN'S " NO." 



SHE had a parcel, small and round, 
One lovely afternoon last summer. 
I offered, as in duty bound, 
To take it from her. 

She thanked me, with a gracious smile, 
As sweet as rosy lips could make it ; 

It was so small, 'twas not worth while 
To let me take it. 

Again I offered, as before, 

Of that slight burden to relieve her. 
She'd rather not — " Pray, say no more !" 

'Twould really grieve her. 

I ceased to plead — she seemed content, 
The thing was small and neatly corded. 

And so along our way we went, 
To where she boarded. 

But when upon the stoop she stood, 
And ere our last adieus were uttered, 

She eyed me in a roguish mood, 
And softly muttered, 



158 THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 

As swung the door to let her through, 
And left me there all unresisting : 

" I don't think very much of you 
For not insisting." 

Arthur Graham. 



THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 

A FARM BALLAD. 



IF the weary world is willing, I've a little word to 
say, 
Of a lightning-rod dispenser that dropped down on me 

one day, 
With a poem in his motions, with a sermon in his mien, 
With hands as white as lilies, and a face uncommon 

clean. 
No wrinkle had his vestments, and his linen glistened 

white, 
And his new-constructed necktie was an interesting 

sight ; 
Which I almost wish his razor had made red that 

white-skinned throat, 
And the new-constructed necktie had composed a hang- 
man's knot, 
Erp he brought his sleek-trimmed carcass for my 

women-folks to see, 
And his rip-saw tongue a buzzin' for to gouge a gash in 

me. 

But I couldn't help but like him — as I always think I 

must, 
The gold of my own doctrines in a fellow-heap of dust ; 



THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 159 

When I fired my own opinions at this person round by 

round, 
They drew an answering volley, of a very similar 

sound ; 
I touched him on religion, and the hopes my heart had 

known ; 
He said he'd had experiences quite similar of his own. 
I told him of the doubtin's that made dark my early 

years ; 
He had laid awake till morning, with that same old 

breed of fears. 
I told him of the rough path I hoped to heaven to 

go; 

He was on that very ladder, only just a round below. 
I told him of my visions of the sinfulness of gain ; 
He had seen the self-same pictures, though not quite so 

clear and plain. 
Our politics was different, and at first he galled and 

winced ; 
But I arg'ed him so able, he was very soon convinced. 

And 'twas getting toward the middle of a hungry sum- 
mer day ; 

There was dinner on the table, and I asked him would 
he stay ? 

And he sat him down among us, everlasting trim and 
neat, 

And asked a short, crisp blessing, almost good enough 
to eat ; 

Then he fired up on the mercies of our Great Eternal 
Friend, 

And gave the Lord Almighty a good, first-class recom- 
mend; 



160 THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 

And for full an hour we listened to the sugar-coated 

scamp, 
Talking like a blessed angel — eating like a — blasted 

tramp. 

My wife, she liked the stranger ; smiling on him warm 

and sweet 
(It always flatters women, when their guests are on the 

eat). 
And he hinted that some ladies never lose their early 

charms, 
And he kissed her latest baby, and received it in his 

arms. 
My sons and daughters liked him, for he had progress- 
ive views, 
And chewed the quid of fancy, and gave down the 

latest news ; 
And I couldn't help but like him, as I fear I always 

must, 
The gold of my own doctrines in a fellow-heap of dust. 

He was spreading desolation through a piece of apple-pie, 
When he paused, and looked upon us with a tear in his 

off-eye, 
And said, " O, happy family ! — your blessings make me 

sad ; 
You call to mind the dear ones that in happier days I 

had ; 
A wife as sweet as this one ; a babe as bright and fair ; 
A little girl with ringlets, like that one over there. 
I worshiped them too blindly ! — my eyes with love were 

dim ! 
God took them to His own heart, and now I worship 

Him. 



THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 161 

But had I not neglected the means within my way, 
Then they might still be living and loving me to-day. 

" One night there came a tempest ; the thunder-peals 

were dire ; 
The clouds that tramped above us were shooting bolts 

of fire ; 
In my own house, I, lying, w r as thinking, to my blame, 
How little I had guarded against those shafts of flame, 
When crash ! — through roof and ceiling the deadly 

lightning cleft, 
And killed my wife and children, and only I was left. 

" Since that dread time I've wandered, and nought for 
life have cared, 

Save to save others' loved ones, whose lives have yet 
been spared ; 

Since then, it is my mission, where'er by sorrow tossed, 

To sell to virtuous people good lightning-rods — at 
cost. 

With sure and strong protection, I'll clothe your build- 
ings o'er, 

'Twill cost you fifty dollars (perhaps a trifle more) ; 

What little else it comes to, at lowest price I'll put, 

(You signing this agreement to pay so much per foot. ") 

I signed it, while my family all approving stood about ; 
And dropped a tear upon it — (but it didn't blot it 

out!) 
That very day with wagons came some men, both great 

and small ; 
They climbed upon my buildings, just as if they owned 

'em all ; 
11 



162 THE LIGHTNING-ROD DISPENSER. 

They hacked 'em and they hewed 'em, much against my 

loud desires ; 
They trimmed 'em up with gewgaws, and they bound 

'em down with wires ; 
They trimmed 'em and they wired 'em, and they 

trimmed and,wired 'em still, 
And every precious minute kept a running up the bill. 

My soft-spoke guest a-seeking, did I rave and rush and 
run ; 

He was supping with a neighbor, just a three-mile 
further on. 

" Do you think," 1 fiercely shouted, " that I w T ant a mile 
o' wire 

To save each separate hay-cock out o' heaven's consum- 
in'fire? 

Do you think to keep my buildin's safe from some un- 
certain harm 

I'm goin' to deed you over all the balance of my farm ?" 

He looked up quite astonished, with a face devoid of 

guile, 
And he pointed to the contract, with a reassuring smile : 
It was the first occasion that he disagreed with me ; 
But he held me to that paper, with a firmness sad to 

see : 
And for that thunder story, ere the rascal finally went, 
I paid two hundred dollars, if I paid a single cent. 
And if any lightnin'-rodder wants a dinner-dialogue 
With the restaurant department of an enterprising dog, 
Let him set his mill a-runnin' just inside my outside 

gate, 
And I'll bet two hundred dollars that he won't have 

long to wait. Will Carleton. 



MISS SIMMONS' NEW BONNET. 163 



MISS SIMMONS' NEW BONNET. 

MISS SIMMONS had on her new bonnet to-day, 
A model of flowers and lace ; 
An imported affair, and she wore it in style, 
With the rim coming over her face. 

Of course, she took care to come tripping in late, 
And all the first hymn was sung through, 
• When she came up the aisle with the air of a queen, 
And stopped at the door of her pew. 

A stranger was in it, a man too, at that — 

The new boarder just over the way ; 
He quietly rose, and she slid in her place 

As the parson was saying " let's pray." 

The prayer was a long one, at least so it seemed, 
And he'd never get through it I thought, 

I was awfully tempted to take a sly peep, 
But I knew I'd be sure to get caught. 

Deacon Jones and his wife sat next on my right, 
With Johnnie and Robbie, their boys, 

And the madam kept watch o'er the frolicsome imps 
In fear lest they might make a noise. 

The " amen" came at last, and try as I might 

The temptation I couldn't resist : 
My eyes went right straight to the stylish new hat, 

Oh, what if the text I had missed ! 



164 A GIRL OF THE PERIOD. 

But I wasn't the only one there this fine day 

Whose thoughts unto vanity strayed, 
For Miss Moore gazed right at her when meeting was 

done — 
I You know, she's a mill'ner by trade. 

The style she fixed firmly, securely in mind, 

And to-morrow she'll surely design 
A bonnet just like it, and next Sunday morn 

Miss Simmons she'll try to outshine. 

Laurie A. Raymond. 



A GIRL OF THE PERIOD. 



OH, she was so utterly utter ! 
She couldn't eat plain bread and butter, 

But a nibble she'd take 

At a wafer of cake, 
Or the wing of a quail for her supper ; 
Roast beef and plum-pudding she'd sneer at, 
A boiled leg of mutton she'd jeer at, 

But the limb of a frog 

Might her appetite jog, 
Or some delicate bit that came near that. 
The consequence was, she grew paler 
And more wishy-washy, and frailer, 

Ate less for her dinner, 

Grew thinner and thinner, 

Till I really think, 

If you marked her with ink, 

Put an envelope ou her, 

And stamped it upon her, 



A GIRL OF THE PERIOD. 165 

You could go to the office and mail her ! 

Her voice was so low and so thrilling, 

Its cadence was perfectly killing ; 
And she talked with a lisp and a stutter, 
For she was so utterly utter ! 



Oh, she was so very aesthetic ! 

Her face was quite long and pathetic ; 

The ends of her hair 

Floated loose on the air, 
And her eyes had a sadness prophetic ; 
The bangs she wore down on her forehead 
Were straight and deliciously horrid ; 

And a sad-colored gown 

Going straight up and down 
She wore when the weather was torrid. 
It was terrible hard to enthuse her, 
But a bit of old china would fuse her ; 
And she'd glow like a coal or a candle, 
At the mention of Bach or of Handel. 
At pinks, and sweet-williams and roses, 
She'd make the most retrousse noses, 

But would swoon with delight 

At a sunflower bright, 
And use it in making her poses. 
She moved with the sleepiest motion, 
As if not quite used to the notion ; 

And her manner was chill 

As a waterfowl's bill 
When he's fresh from a dip in the ocean ! 
It was quite the reverse of magnetic, 
But oh, it was very aesthetic ! 



166 THE HONEST DEACON. 

And if, with your old-fashioned notions, 
You could wish that more cheerful emotion 

More sunshine and grace, 

Should appear in her face, 
More gladness should speak in her motions — 
If you heard with a homesick dejection 
The changes in voice and inflection, 

And sighed for smooth tresses, 

And the plain, simple dresses 
That used to command your affection,- — 
Oh, hide your rash thoughts in your bosom ! 
Or, if you must speak out and use 'em, 
Then under your breath you must mutter; 
Por she is too utterly utter ! 



THE HONEST DEACON. 



AN honest man was Deacon Ray ; 
And, though a Christian good, 
He had one fault, — the love of drink ; 
For drink he often would. 

On almost every Sunday, too, 

He would at dinner-time 
Indulge to quite a great extent 

In good Madeira wine. 

At church, in front, upon the side, 

The deacon had his pew ; 
Another worthy, Squire Lee, 

He had a seat there too. 



THE HONEST DEACON. 167 

One Sunday, the sermon done, 

The parson said he'd talk 
In language plain, that afternoon, 

Of sins within their flock. 

He warned them that they must not flinch 

If he should be severe. 
Each thought his neighbor'd get dressed down, 

So all turned out to hear. 

The church at early hour was full : 

The deacon, some behind, 
Came in quite late ; for he had been 

Indulging in his wine. 

And up the long and broad aisle 

He stiffly tottered on ; 
And, by the time he'd reached his seat, 

The sermon had begun. 

The parson, of transgressors spoke, 

And of the wrath to flee ; 
And soon he to the query came, — 

" The drunkard — where is he ?" 

A pause ; and then the deacon rose, 

And answered like a man, 
Though with a hiccup in his voice, — 

" Here, parson — hie — 'ere I am." 

Of course, the consternation 

Was great on every side ; 
For who'd have thought the deacon 

Would thus aptly have replied ? 



168 miss minerva's disappointment. 

The preacher, not the least disturbed, 
With his remarks kept on, 

And warned him to forsake his ways : 
The deacon then sat down. 

'Twas soon another question came, 
With no more welcome sound, — 

" Where is the wicked hypocrite ?" 
This made them all turn round. 

Some looked at this one, some at that, 

As if they would inquire 
Who 'twas the parson meant : 

His eyes were on the squire. 

The deacon, noting how things stood, 
Turned round and spoke to Lee, — 

" Come, squire — hie — come, you get up : 
I did when he called on me." 



MISS MINEKVA'S DISAPPOINTMENT. 

YES, Debby, 'twas a disappointment ; and though, of 
course, I try 
To look as if I didn't mind it, I won't tell you a lie. 
Ye see, he'd been a-comin' stiddy, and our folks sez, sez 

they, 
11 It's you, Minervy, that he's arter ; he's sure to pop 
some day." 

He'd walk in with the evenin' shadders, set in that 
easy chair, 

And praise my doughnuts, kinder sighin' about a bache- 
lor's fare, 



miss minerva's disappointment. 169 

And then his talk was so improvin,' he made the doc- 
trines plain, 

And when he'd pint a moral, allers looked at Mary- 
Jane. 

She'd laugh, and give sech silly answers that no one 
could approve ; 

But, law ! the men can't fool me, Debby — it isn't sense 
they love, 

It's rosy cheeks, and eyes a-sparklin'. Yes, yes, you 

may depend 
That when a woman's smart and handy — knows how to 

bake and mend, 
And keep her house and husband tidy, why the fools 

will pass her by, 
Bekase she's spent her youth a-learnm' their wants to 

satisfy. 

Now, Mr. Reed was allers talkin' of what a wife should 

be, 
So, Debby, was it any wonder I thought his hints meant 

me? 
And then when Mary Jane would giggle, and he would 

turn so red, 
Could you have guessed that they was courtin' when 

not a word was said ? 

It all came out at last so sudden. 'Twas Wednesday of 

last week, 
When Mr. Eeed came in quite flustered. Thinks I, 

" He means to speak," 
I'll own my heart beat quicker, Debby, for though of 

course, it's bold 
To like a man before he offers, I thought him good as gold. 



170 miss minerva's disappointment. 

Well, there we sot. I talked and waited ; he hemmed 

and coughed awhile. 
He seemed so most uncommon bashful I couldn't help 

but smile. 
I thought about my pine-tar cordial that drives a cough 

away, 
And how when we was fairly married I'd dose him 

every day. 

Just then he spoke ! " Dear Miss Minervy, you must 

have seen quite plain, 
That I'm in love — " "I hev," I answers. Sez he, 

" with Mary Jane." 
What did I do ? I nearly fainted, 'twas such a cruel 

shock, 
Yet there I had to set as quiet as ef I was a rock, 

And hear about her " girlish sweetness " and " buddin' 

beauty " too, 
Don't talk to me of martyrs, Debby, I know what I've 

gone through. 
Well, that's the end. The weddin's settled for June, 

he's in such haste. 
I've given her the spreads I've quilted ; so they won't 

go to waste. 

I'd planned new curtains for his study, all trimmed with 

bands of blue. 
I'm sure her cookin' never'll suit him — he's fond of 

eatin' too. 
Well, no, I wa'n't at meetin' Sunday, I don't find Mr. 

Reed 
So quite as edifyin' lately, he can't move me, indeed. 



PHARISEE AND SADDUCEE. 171 

And, Debby, when you see how foolish a man in love 
can act, 

You can't have such a high opinion of him, and that's 
a fact. 

" I don't look well ?" Spring weather, mebbe ; it's git- 
tin* warm, you know. 

Good-bye ; I'm goin' to Uncle Jotham's, to stay a week 
or so. 

Miss E. T. Corbett. 



PHARISEE AND SADDUCEE. 



TOGETHER to the church they went, 
Both doubtless on devotion bent. 
The parson preached with fluent ease 
On Pharisees and Sadducees. 
And as they homeward slowly walked, 
The lovers on the sermon talked. 
And he — he dearly loved the maid — 
In soft and tender accents said, 
Darling, do you think that we 
Are Pharisee and Sadducee ? 
She flashed on him her bright brown eyes 
With one swift look of vexed surprise, 
And as he hastened to aver 
He was her constant worshiper, 
But darling, I insist, said he, 
That you are v^ry Phar-i-see, 
I don't think you care much for me, 
That makes me so Sad-u-cee. 



172 HOW JIMMY TENDED THE BABY. 

HOW JIMMY TENDED THE BABY. 



I NEVER could see the use of babies. We have one 
at our house that belongs to mother, and she thinks 
everything of it. I can't see anything wonderful about 
it. All it can do is to cry, and pull hair, and kick. It 
hasn't half the sense of my dog, and can't even chase a 
cat. Mother and Sue wouldn't have a dog in the house, 
but they are always going on about the baby, and say- 
ing, " Ain't it perfectly sweet?" 

The worst thing about a baby is, that you're expected 
to take care of him, and then you get scolded afterward. 
Folks say, " Here, Jimmy, just hold the baby a minute, 
there's a good boy ;" and then, as soon as you have got 
it, they say, " Don't do that ! Just look at him ! That 
boy will kill the child ! Hold it up straight, you good- 
for-nothing little wretch !" It's pretty hard to do your 
best, and then be scolded for it ; but that is the way 
boys are treated. Perhaps after I'm dead, folks will 
wish they had done differently. 

Last Saturday, mother and Sue went out to make calls, 
and told me to stay at home and take care of the baby. 
There was a base-ball match, but what did they care for 
that ? They didn't want to go to it, and so it made no 
difference whether I went to it or not. They said they 
would be gone only a little while, and if the baby waked 
up, I was to play with it, and keep it from crying, and 
" be sure and not let it swallow any pins." Of course, I 
had to do it. The baby was sound asleep when they 
went out ;. so I left it just a few minutes, while I went to 
see if there was any pie in the pantry. If I was a 
woman, I wouldn't be so dreadfully suspicious as to keep 
everything locked up. When I got back up stairs again, 



HOW JIMMY TENDED THE BABY. 173 

the baby was awake, and was howling like he was full 
of pins. So I gave him the first thing that came handy, 
to keep him quiet. It happened to be a bottle of French 
polish, with a sponge on the end of a wire, that Sue 
uses to black her boots, because girls are too lazy to use 
the regular brush. The baby stopped crying as soon as 
I gave him the bottle, and I sat down to read a paper. 
The next time I looked at him, he'd got out the sponge, 
and about half of his face was jet black. This was a 
nice fix, for I knew nothing could get the black off his 
face, and when mother came she would say the baby 
was spoiled, and I had done it. Now I think an all 
black baby is ever so much more stylish than an all 
white baby, and when I saw that the baby was part 
black, I made up mind that if I blacked it all over it 
would be worth more than it ever had been, and per- 
haps mother would be ever so much pleased. So I hur- 
ried up, and gave it a good coat of black. 

You should have seen how that baby shined ! The 
polish dried as soon as it was put on, and I had just 
time to get baby dressed again, when mother and Sue 
came in. I wouldn't lower myself to repeat their un- 
kind language. When you've been called a murdering 
little villain, and an unnatural son, it will rankle in 
your heart for ages. After what they had said to me, I 
didn't even seem to mind father, but went up stairs with 
him almost as if I was going to church, or something that 
didn't hurt much. The baby is beautiful and shiny, 
though the doctors say it will wear off in a few years. No* 
body shows any gratitude for all the trouble I took, and I 
can tell you it isn't easy to black a baby without getting 
it into his eyes and hair. I sometimes think it is hardly ' 
worth while to live in this cold and unfeeling world. 



174 THE THREE LOVERS. 

THE THREE LOVERS. 



HERE'S a precept, young man, you should follow 
with care ; 
If you're courting a girl, court her honest and square. 
Mr. 'Liakim Smith was a hard-fisted farmer, 

Of moderate wealth, 

And immoderate health, 
Who fifty odd years, in a stub-and-twist armor 

Of callus and tan, 

Had fought like a man 
His own dogged progress, through trials and cares, 
And log-heaps and brush-heaps and wild-cats and bears, 
And agues and fevers and thistles and briers, 
Poor kinsmen, rich foemen, false saints, and true liars ; 
Who oft, like the " man in our town," overwise, 
Through the brambles of error had scratched out his eyes, 
And when the unwelcome result he had seen, 

Had altered his notion, 

Reversing the motion, 
And scratched them both in again, perfect and clean ; 
Who had weathered some storms, as a sailor might say, 
And tacked to the left, and the right of his way, 
Till he found himself anchored, past tempests and 

breakers, 
Upon a good farm of a hundred odd acres. 

As for 'Liakim's wife, in four words may be told 

Her whole standing in life : 

She was 'Liakim's wife. 
Whereas she'd been young, she was not growing old, 
But did, she considered, as well as one could, 
When he looked on her hard work, and saw 'twas good. 



THE THREE LOVERS. 175 

The family record showed only a daughter ; 
But she had a face, 
As if each fabled Grace 
In a burst of delight to her bosom had caught her, 
Or as if all the flowers in each Smith generation 
Had blossomed at last in one grand culmination. 
Style lingered unconscious in all of her dress ; 
She'd starlight for glances and sunbeams for tresses, 
Wherever she went, with her right royal tread, 
Each youth, when he'd passed her a bit, turned his 

head; 
And so one might say, though the figure be strained, 
She had turned half the heads that the township con- 
tained. 

Now Bess had a lover — a monstrous young hulk ; 

A farmer by trade — 

Strong, sturdy, and staid ; 
A man of good parts — if you counted by bulk ; 
A man of great weight — by the scales ; and, indeed, 
A man of some depth — as was shown by his feed. 
His face was a fat exclamation of wonder ; 
His voice was not quite unsuggestive of thunder ; 
His laugh was a cross 'twixt a yell and a chuckle ; 

He'd a number one foot, 

And a number ten boot, 
And a knock-down reserved in each separate knuckle. 
He'd a heart mad in love with the girl of his choice 
Who made him alternately mope and rejoice, 
By dealing him one day discouraging messes, 
And soothing him next day with smiles and caresses. 

Now Bess had a lover who hoped her to wed — 
A rising young lawyer — more rising than read ; 



176 THE THREE LOVERS. 

Whose theories all were quite startling ; and who, 
Like many a chap 
In these days of strange hap, 

Was living on what he expected to do ; 

While his landlady thought 'twould have been rather 
neat 

Could he only have learned, 
Till some practice was earned, 

To subsist upon what he expected to eat. 

He was bodily small, howe'er mentally great, 

And suggestively less than a hundred in weight. 

Now Bess had a lover — young Patrick ; a sinner, 

And lad of all work, 

From the suburbs of Cork, 
Who worked for her father, and thought he could win 

her. 
And if Jacob could faithful serve fourteen years 
through, 

And still thrive and rejoice, 

For the girl of his choice, 
He thought he could play the same game one or two. 

Now 'Liakim Smith had a theory hid, 

And by egotism fed, 

Somewhere up in his head, 
That a dutiful daughter should always as bid 
Grow old in the service of him who begot her, 

Imbibe his beliefs, 

Have a care for his griefs, 
And faithfully bring him his cider and water. 
So, as might be expected, he turned up his nose, 
Also a cold shoulder, to Bessie's two beaux, 



THE THREE LOVERS. 177 

And finally turned them away from his door, 

Forbidding them ever to enter it more ; 

And detailed young Patrick as kind of a guard, 

With orders to keep them both out of the yard. 

So Pat took his task, with a treacherous smile, 
And bullied the small one, 
And dodged the big tall one, 

And slyly made love to Miss Bess all the while. 

But one evening, when 'Liakim and wife crowned their 
labors 

With praise and entreating 

At the village prayer-meeting, 
And Patrick had stepped for a while to some neighbors', 
The lawyer had come, in the trimmest of dress, 

And, dapper and slim, 

And small, e'en for him, 
Was holding a session of court with Miss Bess. 
And Bess, sly love athlete, was suited first rate 
At a flirtation-mill with this legal light-weight ; 
And was listening to him, as minutes spun on, 

Of pleas he could make, 

And of fees he would take, 
And of suits that he should, in future have won ; 
When just as the cold, heartless clock counted eight, 
Miss Bessie's quick ear caught a step at the gate. 
"'Tis mother !" she cried : " Oh, go quick, I implore ! 
But father'll drive round and come in the back door ! 
You cannot escape them, however you turn ! 
So hide for awhile — let me see — in this churn !" 

The churn was quite large enough for him to turn in — 

Expanded out so, 

By machinery to go, 
'Twould have done for a dairy-man Cyclops to churn in. 



178 THE THREE LOVERS. 

'Twas fixed for attaching a pitman or lever, 
To go by horse-power — a notion quite clever, 
Invented and built by the Irishman, Pat, 
Who pleased Mrs. 'Liakim hugely by that. 

The lawyer went into the case with much ease, 
And hugged the belief 
That the cause would be brief, 

And settled himself down with hardly a squeeze. 

And Bess said, " Keep still, for there's plenty of room," 

And shut down the cover, and left him in gloom. 

But scarcely were matters left decently so, 
In walked — not her mother, 
But — worry and bother! — 

The mammoth young farmer, whose first name was Joe. 

And he gleefully sung, in a heavy bass tone 
Which came in one note 
From the depths of his throat, 

" I'm glad I have come, since I've found you alone. 

Let's sit here awhile, by this kerosene light, 

An' spark it awhile now with all of our might." 

And Bessie was willing ; and so they sat down. 

The maiden so fair and the farmer so brown. 

They talked of things great, and they talked of things 
small, 

Which none could condemn, 

And which may have pleased them, 

But which did not interest the lawyer at all ; 

And Bessie seemed giving but little concern 

To the feelings of him she had shut in the churn. 

Till Bessie just artlessly mentioned the man, 
And Joe with a will to abuse him began, 



THE THREE LOVERS. 179 

And called him full many an ignoble name, 

Appertaining to " scrubby," 

And " shorty,'' and " stubby," 
And other descriptions not wide of the same ; 
And Bessie said naught in the lawyer's behalf, 
But seconded Joe, now and theu, with a laugh ; 
And the lawyer said nothing, but winked at his fate, 

And, somewhat abashed, 

And decidedly dashed, 
Accepted Joe's motions sans vote or debate. 
And several times he, with policy stern, 
Repressed a desire to break out of the churn, 
Well knowing he thus might get savagely used 

And if not quite eaten, 

Would likely be beaten, 
And probably injured as well as abused. 
But now came another quick step at the door, 
And Bessie was fearful, the same as before ; 
And tumbling Joe over a couple of chairs, 

With a general sound 

Of thunder all 'round, 
She hurried him up a short pair of back stairs ; 
And close in the garret condemned him to wait 
Till orders from her, be it early or late. 
Then tripping her way down the stair-case, she said, 
" I'll smuggle them off when the folks get to bed/' 

It was not her parents ; 'twas crafty young Pat, 
Returned from his visit ; and straightway he sat 
Beside her, remarking, The chairs were in place, 
So he would sit near her, and view her sweet face. 
So gayly they talked, as the minutes fast flew, 
Discussing such matters as both of them knew, 



180 THE THREE LOVERS. 

While often Miss Bessie's sweet laugh answered back, 

For Pat, be it known, 

Had some wit of his own, 
And in irony efforts was sharp as a tack. 
And finally Bessie his dancing tongue led, 

By a sly, dextrous turn, 

To the man in the churn, 
And the farmer who eagerly listened o'erhead ; 
Whereat the young Irishman volubly gave 

A short dissertation, 

Whose main information 
Was that one was a fool and the other a knave. 

Slim chance there must be for the world e'er to learn 
How pleasant this was to the man in the churn ; 
Though, to borrow a figure lent by his position, 
He was doubtless in somewhat a worked-up condition. 
It may ne'er be sung, and it may ne'er be said, 
How well it was liked by the giant o'erhead. 
He lay on a joist — for there wasn't any floor — 

And the joists were so few, 

And so far apart too, 
He could not, in comfort, preempt any more ; 
And he nearly had knocked through the plastering 

quite, 
And challenged young Pat to a fair and square fight ; 
But he dared not do elsewise than Bessie had said, 
For fear, as a lover, he might lose his head. 

But now from the meeting the old folks returned, 
And sat by the stove as the fire brightly burned ; 
And Patrick came in from the care of the team ; 
And since in the house there was overmuch cream, 



THE THREE LOVERS. 181 

He thought that the horses their supper might earn, 

And leave him full way 

To plow early next day, 
By working that night for awhile at the churn. 

The old folks consented ; and Patrick went out, 
Half chuckling, for he had a shrewd Irish doubt, 
From various slight sounds he had chanced to discern, 
That Bess had a fellow shut up in the churn. 

The lawyer, meanwhile, in his hiding-place cooped, 
Low grunted and hitched and contorted and stooped, 
But hung to the place like a man in a dream ; 
And when the young Irishman went for the team, 
To stay or to fly, he could hardly tell which ; 

But hoping to get 

Neatly out of it yet, 
He concluded to hang to the very last hitch. 

The churn was one side of the house, recollect, 
So rods with the horse-power outside could connect ; 
And Bess stood so near that she took the lamp's gleam in 
While her mother was cheerfully pouring the cream in ; 
Who, being near-sighted, and minding her cup, 
Had no notion of what she was covering up ; 
But the lawyer, meanwhile, had he dared to have spoke, 
Would have owned that he saw the whole cream of the 
joke. 

But just as the voice of young Patrick came strong 
And clear through the window, " All ready ! go 'long !" 
And just as the dasher its motion began, 

Stirred up by its knocks, 

Like a Jack-in-the-box 
He jumped from his damp, dripping prison — and ran, 



182 THE THREE LOVERS. 

And made a frog-leap o'er the stove and a chair, 
With some crisp Bible words not intended as prayer. 

All over the kitchen he rampaged and tore, 
And ran against everything there but the door; 
Tipped over old 'Liakim flat on his back, 
And left a long trail of rich cream on his track. 
" Ou ! ou ! 'tis a ghost !" quavered 'Liakim's wife ; 
" A ghost, if I ever saw one in my life !" 
" The Devil !" roared 'Liakim, rubbing his shin. 
" No ! no !" shouted Patrick, who just then came in : 
" It's only a lawyer ; the devil ne'er runs — 

To bring on him a laugh — 

In the shape of a calf; 
It isn't the devil ; it's one of his sons ! 
If so that the spalpeen had words he could utther, 
He'd swear he loved Bessie, an' loved no one bwtther." 

Now Joe lay full length on the scantling o'erhead, 

And tried to make out 

What it all was about, 
By list'ning to all that was done and was said ; 
But somehow his balance became uncontrolled, 
And he on the plastering heavily rolled. 
It yielded instanter, came down with a crash, 
And fell on the heads of the folks with a smash. 
And there his plump limbs through the orifice swung, 
And he caught by the arms and disgracefully hung, 
His ponderous body, so clumsy and thick, 
Wedged into that posture as tight as a brick. 
And 'Liakim Smith, by amazement made dumb 

At those legs in the air 

Hanging motionless there, 
Concluded that this time the devil had come ; 



HOW HIS GARMENTS GOT TURNED. 183 

And seizing a chair, he belabored them well, 
While the head pronounced words that no printer 
would spell. 

And there let us leave them, 'mid outcry and clatter, 
To come to their wits, and then settle the matter • 
And take for the moral this inference fair : 
If you're courting a girl, court her honest and square. 



HOW HIS GARMENTS GOT TURNED. 



WHEN the golden sunlight dances on the bosom of 
the stream, 
And the silver lilies, starlike, 'mong the olive sedges 

gleam, 
When the bullfrog seeks the cover of the grasses tall 

and rank, 
And the pickerel at noonday seeks the shadow of the 

bank, 
Then the small boy goes in swimming in the costume of 

the mode 
That was worn by fair Godiva, when through Coventry 

she rode. 

He splashes in the limpid stream with many a gleeful 

shout, 
And to the bank returning puts his shirt on inside out ; 
And when his mother questions him, " How came that 

garment so ?" 
He looks upon it with surprise, and says he doesn't know ; 
When further pressed to give the cause, this reason he 

employs : 
" I must have turned a somersault when playing with 

the boys." 



W" FOR LIST OF CONTENTS OF OTHER NUMBERS, SEE LAST PAGES OF THIS BOOK* 



Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13, NOW READY. 

<<5he 



% 



iHlocutionist'js iHlnnuaL 



• * ♦ » 




The Authors, with a high appreciation of their subject and with a 
fall acquaintance with the practical wants and details of their profession, 
present in the Elocutionist's Annual the result of many years of 
teaching and professional experience, and have produced a book that 
is unequalled by any similar work ever issued from the press. 

The Annual is based upon a method at once original and rational, 
a combination of Elocutionary Training with Elocutionary Perform- 
ances, and it has been the Compilers' leading object to thus answer all 
the wants of the voice, and at the same time supply suitable exercises 
for any occasion where Readings, Recitations, etc., would be in order. 
In these points, as well as in its cheapness, the Publishers claim for 
The Elocutionist's Annual 

^jeZpecial Attractions oier any other Workup 

of a like character. 

Retail Prices, Postpaid. 

In Paper Binding, strong and durable, with handsomely 

engraved cover, ....... 30 cents. 

In Superior Cloth Binding, with gilt back, . . . 50 " 

To Schools, Colleges, Seminaries, etc., a special discount will be 
made upon the first supply. 

Money to the amount of one dollar and upwards must be sent by 
Registered Letter, P. O. Money Order, or Draft made payable to 

CHAS. C. SHOEMAKER, Manager, 

National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1416 AND 1418 CHESTNUT STREET, 

PUBLICATION DEPARTMENT. PHILADELPHIA, PA. 



A COMPLETE IilST of the contents of the JEJLOCW i 
tT'IOXIST'S AMl T AL, Alphabetically Arranged. 



CONTENTS OF No. 1. 



Abraham Lincoln. 

After the Accident 

Annie and Willie's Prayer. 

Army and Navy, The (Tab- 
leau). 

Beautiful, The (Tableau). 

Betsey and I are Out. 

Blue and the Gray, The. 

Boys, The 

Break, Break, Break. 

Bridge, The. 

Bugle Song. 

Bullum versus Boatum. 

Burial of Moses, The. 

Charcoal Man, The. 

Charge of the Light Bri- 
gade. 

Child- Wife, The. 

Coming and Going. 

Creeds of the Bells, The. 

Crossing the Carry. 

Death of Little Joe. 

Death of Little Nell. 

Difficulty of Rhyming, The. 

Dying Christian, The. 

Empty Nest, The. 

Experience with European 
Guides. 

Evening at the Farm. 

Extract from the Last 
Speech of Robt. Emmett. 

Farmer's Kitchen before 
Thanksgiving (Tableau). 

Forty Years Ago. 

Frog Hollow Lyceum, The 
(Dialogue). 

Gipsy Camp (Tableau). 



Hamlet's Instruction to the 
Players. 

Hamlet's Ghost, 

Independence Bell. 

Isle of Long Ago, The. 

It's All for Bread and But- 
ter (Dialogue). 

Jean Anderson, my Joy, 
Jean . 

John Maynard. 

Katie Lee and Willie Gray. 

Katydid. 

Launch of the Ship, The. 

Lullaby. 

Memory of Washington , 
The. 

Modern Cain, The. 

Mrs. Caudle's Lecture. 

My Early Home. 

My Mule. 

Nathan's Case. 

Nobody's Child. 

Old Year and the New, 
The. 

Old Yankee Farmer, The. 

Orator Puff. 

Othello '8 Apology. 

Our Folks. 

Over the Hill. 

Over the River. 

Patrick Dolin's Love-Let- 
ter. 

Pat's Excelsior. 

Pax Vobiscum. 

Prodigal Son, The. 

Psalm XXIII. 



Psalm XXIV. 

Rainy Day, The. 

Relief of Luck now. The. 

Revolutionary Rising, Th* 

Romeo and Juliet, Balcony 

Scene (Dialogue). 
Sam Weller's Valentine 

(Tableau). 
Scripture Tableaux. 
Scrooge and Marley. 
Searching for Happiness 

(Pantomime). 
Signing* the Pledge (Tab- 
leau). 
Smack in School, The. 
Song of the Forge, The 

(Dialogue). 
Song of the Winter Winds. 
Song Revels. 

Spartacus to the Gladiators. 
To a Christmas Pudding. 
To Whom shall we Give 

Thanks? 
Tragedy, A. 
Uncle Pete's Counsel to the 

Newly Married. 
Waif, A. 
Why He Wouldn't Sell the 

Farm. 
William Tell. 
Will the New Year Come 

To-Night ? 
Woman *8 Rights (Tableau). 
Woman's Rights. 
Your Mission. 
You Put no Flowers on mj 
Papa's Grave. 



CONTENTS 

Andrew Jackson. 

Arnold Winkelried. 

Barn Window, The. 

Bells of Shandon, The. 

Bible Reading. 

Brought to Trial for Bio win' 
(Dialogue). 

Buck Fanshaw's Fune- 
ral. 

Cassius against Caesar. 

Char-co-o-al. 

Charity. 

Choosing (Dialogue). 

Christmas Carol, A. 

Christmas Eve (Panto- 
mime). 

Courtship Under Difficul- 
ties (Dialogue). 

Darius Green and his Fly- 
ing Machine. 

Death of Eva. 

Demagogue, The. 

Dow's Flat, 1856. 

Dutchman's Speech at An 
Institute, A. 

East and the West One 
The. 

Egyptian Debate (Dia- 
logue). 

Excelsior. 

Father in Heaven. 

First Appearance in Type, 



OF No. 2. 

Flower (Flour) Girl (Tab 
leau). 

Ghosts, The. 

Go It Alone. 

Hallowed be Thy Name 
(Tableau). 

Hamlet's Soliloquy. 

Hezekiah Bedott. 

High Tide ; or, The Brides 
of Enderby. 

How Mr. Coville Counted 
the Shingles. 

Isaiah XXXV. 

Johnny's Opinion of Grand- 
mothers. 

Liberty and Union. 

Lochinvar's Ride. 

May Queen — Conclusion, 
The. 

Miss Maloney on the Chi- 
nese Question. 

Mr. Coville on Danbury. 

Month of Mars, The. 

Morning, Noon and Night 
(Dialogue). 

Nature of True Eloquence, 
The. 

New Church Organ, The. 

New Year's Address, A. 

North American Indians. 

Old Man in the Model 
Church, The. 



Old and Blind. 

Only a Boy. 

Oratory and the Press. 

Over the Hill to the Poor. 

house. 
Playing Singing-School 

(Dialogue). 
Polish Boy, The. 
Puzzled Dutchman, The. 
Red Jacket, The. 
Robinson Crusoe. 
Rogers' Groups (Tableaux). 
Romance of Nick Va» 

Stann, The. 
Rum's Maniac. 
Scripture Tableaux. 
Sixty-four and Sixty-five. 
Socrates Snooks. 
Soldier's Reprieve, The. 
Spanish Armada, The. 
Three Fishers, The (Tab- 
leau). 
Trial Scene— Merchant of 

Venice (Dialogue). 
Twenty -third Psalm, The. 
Washington as a Civilian. 
Where Shall the Baby's 

Dimple be ? 
Wolsey's Fall. 
Yarn of the Jlancy Bell 

The. 
Yeung Scholar, The. 



"I have used the numbers of the Elocutionist's Annual for fout 
years, and have found it the best collection of standard pieces, 

both for my own reading and for the use of my pupils, that I have 
ever seen."— Prof. J. M. Gillam, Instructor in Elocution in Illinois 
Wesleyan University, Bloomington, Illinois. 



CONTENTS OF No. 3. 



Adoon the Lane. 

American Flag, The. 

Baby's First Tooth, The. 

Bardell and Pickwick. 

Baron's Last Banquet, The. 

Battle of Beal* au Duine. 

Blindness. 

Burning Ship, The. 

Charlie Machree. 

Christmas Hymn. 

Christmas -Tide (Dialogue). 

Closing Year, The. 

Cinderella's Slipper (Ta- 
bleau). 

Cynic, The. 

Despair is Never Quite De- 
spair. 

Eagle's Rock, The. 

Famine, The. 

Female Gossip. 

Goodness and Greatness of 
God. 

Good-Night, Papa. 

Haunted House, The. 

Hypochondriac, The. 



If I should Die To- Night. 
Indian Chief to the White 

Settler, The. 
Inquiry, The. 
Jack and Gill. 
Kit Carsou's Ride. 
Laughin' in Meetin'. 
Lides to Bary Jade. 
Little Golden hair. 
Lost and Found. 
Maud Muller. 
Monster Cannon, The. 
National Monument to 

Washington. 
Negro Prayer. 
Old Forsaken School-house, 

The. 
Painter of Seville, The. 
Parrhasius and the Captive. 
Parting Hymn. 
Passing Away. 
Poor Little Jim. 
Power of Habit, The. 
Promise, The. 
Pulpit Oratory. 



CONTENTS OF No. 

A Man's a Man, for a' That. , Deacon Munroe's Story. 
Age. Dead Church, The. 

Angels of Buena Vista, The. Declaration of Independ- 



Annuity, The 

Appeal to the Sextant for 
Air, An. 

Aunt Kindly. 

Baggage- Smasher, Ye. 

Battle of Bunker's Hill, The 

Battle Hymn of the Repub- 
lic. 

Black Horse and his Rider, 
The. 

Bridal Wine Cup, The (Di- 
alogue). 

Burning Prairie, The. 

Cause of Temperance, The. 

Centennial Oration. 

Christmas Sheaf, The. 

Clarence's Dream. 

Columbia's Centennial Par- 
ty (Dialogue). 

Columbia. 

Contentment. 

0urfew Must Not Ring To- 
Night. 



ence. 
Dora. 
Dot Lambs vot Mary Haf 

Got. 
Faith and Reason. 
Fire, The. 

Gambler's Wife, Thfc. 
Ghost, The. 
Grandmother's Story. 
Great Beef Contract, The. 
How a Married Man Sews 

on a Button. 
Judge Pitman on Various 

Kinds of Weather. 
Kentucky Belle. 
Leap-Year Wooing, A. 
Love Your Neighbor as 

Yourself. 
Maiden's Last Farewell, 

The. 
Mark Antony Scene (Dia- 
logue). 
Modest Wit, A. 



Quarrel of Brutus and Cas- 
sius (Dialogue). 

Reaching the Early Train. 

Reply tD Mr. Corry. 

Reverie in Church. 

Rock of Ages. 

Scripture Scenes (Ta- 
bleaux). 

Senator's Dilemma, The. 

Seven Ages of Man. 

Signs and Omens. 

Song of Moses. 

Song of the Sea. 

Songs of Seven (Dialogue). 

Tell on his Native Hills. 

Three Fishers, The. 

Train to Mauro, The (Dia- 
logue). 

Trust in God. 

Two Glasses, The. 

Vagabonds, The. 

Wax-Work. 

Welcome to Summer, A. 

Woman. 

W aiting for the Children. 

4. 

Negro Prayer, A. 

No God. 

Ode to the Deity. 

Ode to Independence Hall, 
An. 

Ode to the Legislature. 

Our Own. 

Paul Revere's Ride. 

Quarrel of Squire Bull and 
his Son Jonathan, The. 

Rationalistic Chicken, The. 

Raven, The. 

Remember Now thy Cre- 
ator. 

Rest. 

Revelation XXII. 

Rienzi's Address. 

Rival Speakers, The (Dia- 
logue). 

Spirit of 76 (Tableau). 

Tommy Taft. 

Tribute to Washington. 

Union, The. 

What the Old Man Said. 

Yankee's Stratagem, ..Tha 
(Dialogue). 



From ihe Transcript, Portland, Maine. 
•"These selections evince correct taste and furnish the amateot 
reader and the professional elocutionist with the widest range 
of subjects for occasions on which matters of that kind may b* 
needed." 



Iger, The. 

All that Glitters is not Gold 
(Dialogue). 

Archie Dean. 

Ban nock -Barn. 

Betty Lee. 

Brave at Home, The. 

Bride of the Greek Isle, 
The. 

Brook, The. 

Budge's Version . of the 
Flood. 

Catiline's Defiance. 

Centennial Hymn. 

Comin' Thro' the Bye (Ta- 
bleau). 

Competing Railroads, The 
(Dialogue). 

Corinthians, I, XV. 

Course of Love too Smooth, 
The. 

Dedication of Gettysburg 
Cemetery. 

Elder Mr. Weller's Senti- 
ments on Literary Com- 
position. 

Fairy -Land. 

Fashionable Singing. 

Flood of Years, The. 



CONTENTS OF Ho. 

Good Beading. 

Hans and Fritz. 

He Giveth His Beloved 

Sleep. 
Heroes of the Land of 

Penn. 
How we Hunted a Mouse. 
John and Tibbie's Dispute. 
Labore est Orare. 
Last Hymn, The. 
Leak in the Dyke, The. 
Listeners Hear no Good of 

Themselves (Tableau). 
Lost and Found, 
Magdalena ; or, The Span- 
ish Duel. 
Maiden Martyr, The. 
Man Wants but Little Here 

Below. 
Man's Ingratitude. 
Membranous Croup and the 

McWilliamses. 
Moral Effects of Intemper 

ance. 
Morning. 
My Trundle-Bed. 
Old Ironsides. 
Once Upon a Time. 
Only a Baby. 



CONTENTS OF No. 



Artemus "Ward's London 

Lecture. 
Asleep at the Switch 
Ave Maria. 
Battle of Ivry, The. 
Bob-o'-link. 
Bridge of Sighs, The. 
Brother Anderson's Sev- 

mon. 
Cane-Bottomed Chair, The 
Children's Hour, The. ' 
Cool Season (Dialogue). 
Dagger Scene, The. 
Day at Niagara, A. 
Deserted House, The. 
Doctor Marigold. 
Dukite Snake, The. 
Easter Morning. 
Edith Helps Things Along. 
Eve and the Serpent. 
Extract from "The Last 

Days of Herculaneum,' 



Father Phil's Collection. 
From the Tragedy of King 

John (Dialogue). 
Fruits of Labor, The. 
Getting Under Way. 
Gradatim. 
Green- Mountain Justice, 

The. 
Hard Shave, A (Tableau). 
Hatchet Story. 
Ho ! Every One that Thirst- 

eth! 
Home Song. 
Jane Conquest. 
Jennie M'Neal's Ride. 
Little Allie. 
Malibran and the Young 

Musician. 
Mary Stuart (Dialogue). 
My Country, 'tis of Thee. 
Nae Luck A boot the House. 
Niagara. 



5. 

Over the Hills and Fa* 
Away. 

Parthenia (Dialogue). 

Prisoner of Chi lion, The. 

Prince Henry and Falstaff 
(Dialogue). 

Puritans, The. 

Ready for a Kiss. 

Regret. 

Samantha Smith becomes 
Josiah Allen's Yrife. 

Saracen Brothers (Dia- 
logue). 

Schoolmaster's Guests, The. 

Song of Birds. 

Swell's Soliloquy, The. 

Southland. 

Summer Friends. 

Swallowing a Fly. 

To a Skull. 

Tramp,, Tramp, Tramp. 

True Contentment. 

Uncle Daniel's Introduc- 
tion to a Mississippi 
Steamer. 

Vaudois Missionary, The. 

Where is Papa To-Night. 

Why Biddie and Pat Map* 
ried. 

6. 

Old Sergea-at, The. 

Oratory. 

Organ Creations. 

Palmetto and the Pine, The. 

Professor Puzzled, The 

(Dialogue). 
Relentless Time. 
Satan and the Grog-seMe»„ 
School "Called." 
Song of the Crickets, The. 
Songs in the Night. 
St. John the Aged. 
Thanatopsis. 
Thanksgiving, A. 
To a Friend. 
Tom. 
Tribute to East Tennessee* 

A. 
Valley Forge. 
Washington (Tableau;. 
Zekle. 



Prof. George P. Beard, Principal South-western State Normal School, 
California, Pa., says: "The Elocutionist's Annual is largely used 
.by students of this school for choice selections for public recitation 
and class-reading. They are admirably adapted to the practi- 
cal work of elocution." 



CONTENTS OF No. 7. 



American War, The. 

Auld Lang Syne. 

Books. 

Builders, The. 

Care of God, The. 

Crescent and the Cross,The. 

Cuddle Doon. 

Daisy's Faith. 

Death of the Old Year, The. 

Death of Nelson, The. 

Death of the Old Squire, 
The. 

Early Christmas Morning. 

Fair Play for Women. 

Farmer's Life, The. 

Glove and the Lions, The. 

Gray Honors the Blue, The. 

Hamlet, Act II., Scene 2 
(Dialogue). 

Hannah Binding Shoes. 

Henry the Fifth at Har- 
fleur. 

How Tom Sawyer White- 
washed his Fence. 



Leper, The. 

Light -house May. 

Lochiel's Warning (Dia- 
logue). 

Longing. 

Masters of the Situation. 

Master's Touch, The. 

Marco Bozzaris. 

Milking-Time. 

Mine Katrine. 

Model Discourse, A. 

Mont Blanc before Sunrise. 

My Minde to Me a King- 
dom Is. 

Night After Christmas, The. 

Night Before Christmas, 
The. 

Old Grimes. 

Old Robin. 

Our Minister's Sermon. 

Our Traveled Parson. 

Owl Critic, The. 

Parody, A. 

Paradise. 



Paul before King Agrippa. 
Reflections on Westminster 

Abbey. 
Royal Princess, A. 
Saving Mission of Infancy, 

The. 
Selling the Farm. 
Shakspearian Burlesque 

(Dialogue). 
Sheriff Thome. 
Ship of Faith, The. 
Sister and I. 
South Wind, The. 
Surly Tim's Trouble. 
Tableaux from Cotter's Sat» 

urday Night. 
That Hired Girl. 
Tired Mothers. 
Tom's Little Star. 
Village Blacksmith, Ttie. 
Voice in the Twilight, The- 
Woman's Rights (Dialogue) 
Wounded Soldier, The* 



CONTENTS OF No. 8. 



After Death. 

American Specimen, An. 

Arrow and the Song, The. 

Bald-headed Man, The. 

Bay Billy. 

Beecher on Eggs. 

Better in the Morning. 

Bessie Kendrick's Journey. 

Blue Sky Somewhere. 

Carl. 

Character of Washington, 

The. 
Child Musician, The. 
Christmas Carol, A. 
Coney Island Down der 

Pay. 
Defence of Lucknow, The. 
Emigrant's Story, The. 
Enoch Arden. 
Everlasting Memorial, The. 
Fire- Bell's Story, The. 
First Quarrel The. 
Gran 'ma Al'as Does. 
Harvesters, The (Tableau). 
Ber Letter. 



How Ruby Played. 

In the Garret. 

International Episode, An. 

King's Missive, 1661, The. 

Leap Year in the Village 
with One Gentleman (Di- 
alogue). 

Lesson, The. 

Little Feet. 

Monk in his Cell, A (Ta- 
bleau). 

Mrs. MacWilliams and the 
Lightning. 

Nations and Humanity. 

Nebuchadnezzar. 

" N " for Nannie and " B " 
for Ben. 

Nun at her Devotions, A 
(Tableau). 

Old Folks. 

Ophelia (Tableau). 

Order for a Picture, An. 

Over the Hill from the 
Poorhouse. 

Peace in God. 



Philosophy of Laughter 

Practical Young Woman, 
A. 

Psalm XC. 

Reckoning with the Old 
Year. 

Reply to Hayne. 

Rest. 

Rivals, The (Dialogue). 

Scene from Leah the For- 
saken. 

Setting a Hen. 

Sioux Chiefs Daughter, 
The. 

Slander. 

Song of Steam, The. 

Stage -Struck (Dialogue). 

Statue in Clay, The. 

Tale of the Yorkshire Coas^ 
A. 

Temperance Question, The. 

There's No Rose Without -v 
Thorn (Tableau). 

Undine (Tableau). 

Vashti. 



* This series is designed as a receptacle into which shall fall yeai 
jy year the newest and best reading's of the elocutionists of the 
country. A few of the old standard pieces are always intermixed with 
tne newest, thus making the Elocutionist's Annual a compact and 
convenient manual and a thing of merit ."—Intelligencer, Doyle* 
town, Pa. 



CONTENTS OF No. 9, 



Aged Stranger, The. 
Awfully Lovely Philosophy. 
Baby's Visitor. 
Baby's Kiss, The. 
Bertha in the Lane. 
Births. Mrs. Meeks, of a 

Son. 
Brier Rose. 
Bumboat Woman's Story, 

The. 
Child on the Judgment- 

Seat, The. 
Christmas Ballad, A. 
Combat between Fitz- 

James and Roderick 

Dhu (Dialogue). 
Connor. 
Death of Minnehaha (Ta 

bleau). 
Fisherman's Wife, The. 
First Party, The. 
Gypsy Fortune-Teller (Ta- 
bleau). 
Hamlet, Act III., Scene 4 

(Dialogue) I 



Henry Fifth's Wooing (Dia- 
logue). 

Horatius. 

Ideal, The. 

I Was with Grant. 

Lady of Lyons, Scene from 
(Dialogue). 

Last Prayer of Mary, Queen 
of Scots. 

Lookout Mountain. 

Master Johnny's Next-Door 
Neighbor. 

Maud Muller (Tableau). 

Mine Vamily. 

Mrs. Walker's Betsy. 

Mrs. Ward's Visit to the 
Prince. 

National Ensign, The. 

Only. 

Palace o* the King, The. 

Paul at Athens. 

Potency of English Words. 

Pwize Spwing Poem. 

Queen Mary, Act V., Scene 
5 (Dialogue). 



River, The. 

Rover '8 Petition. 

Sailing of King Olaf, The. 

Sam's Letter. 

School Begins To-day. 

Selling the Farm. 

Sometime. 

Song of the Camp, The. 

St. George and the Drag- 
on. 

Terpsichore in the Flat 
Creek Quarters. 

Then and Now. 

Thoughts for a New Year 

Tribute to Washington. 

Truth of Truths, The. 

Unnoticed and UnhonoreV 
Heroes. 

White Squall, The. 

Widow and Her Son, The. 

William Goetz. 

World, The. 

Words of Strength. 

Yorkshire Cobbler, The. 



CONTENTS OF No. lO. 



Be as Thorough as You Can 

Balaklava. 

Blind Lamb, The. 

Caught in the Quicksand. 

Chimney's Melody, The. 

Chickamauga. 

Despair. 

Drifting. 

Dick Johnson's Picture. 

Death of Roland, The. 

Dot Baby off Mine. 

Eulogy on Garfield. 

Frenchman on Macbeth, 

A. 
Herve Riel. 

Irrepressible Boy, The. 
Job XXVIII. 
Jamie. 

Law of Death, The. 
Little Rocket's Christmas. 
Larrie O'Dee. 
Little Dora's Soliloquy. 
I *st Charge of Nev. 



Lost Found, The. 

Mick Tandy's Revenge. 

Macbeth and the Witches 
(Dialogue). 

Mother of the Grachii, The 
(Tableau). 

Nay, I'll Stay with the Lad 

New England's Chevy- 
Chase. 

Old Year and the New, The. 

Phantom Ship, The. 

Quarrel between Sir Peter 
and Lady Teazle (Dia- 
logue). 

Rev. Gabe Tucker's Re- 
macks. 

Railway Matinee, A. 

Rizpah. 

Reveries of a Bachelor (Ta- 
bleau). 

Reminiscence of Exhibi- 
tion Day. 

Shriving of Guinevere, The. 



[Schoolmaster Beaten, The. 

Sympathy. 

[Sky, The. 

School Statistics. 

Scene from Damon and 
Pythias (Dialogue). 

Snow-Birds (Tableau). 

Tilghman's Ride. 

Theology in the Quarters. 

To the Susvivors of the Bat- 
tle of Bunker Hill. 

Till Death Us Join. 

Tammy's Prize. 

Tragedy, The. 

True Story of Little Boy 
Blue, The. 

Two Blind Beggars (Ta- 
bleau). 

Village Choir, The (Ta- 
bleau). 

Washington Hawkins Dine* 
with Col. Sellers. 

Wayside Inn, The. 



Dr. J. H. Luther, President Baylor College, Independence, Texas, say* 
•I regard this series as the best published for this department of col- 
lege study. The Annuals are specially valuable as sustaining th« 
interest of toe pupil and widening her knowledge of our best 
authors." 



CONTENTS OF No. 



Apostrophe to the Ocean. 

A rctic Aurora, An. 

Ballet Girl, The. 

Bobolink, The. 
iCatching the Colt. 

Child Martyr, The. 

Clown's Baby, The. 

Convict's Soliloquy, the 
Night before Execution, 
The. 

•eath of Little Paul Dom- 
bey. 

Decoration Day. 

Dutchman's Snake, The. 

Echo and the Ferry. 

Execution of Queen Mary. 

Finished. 

Flash— the Fireman's Sto- 
ry* 

Foxes' Tails; or, Sandy Mac- 
donald's Signal, The. 

Freckled-faced Girl, The. 

Front Gate, The. 

Froward Duster, The. 

Garfield at the Wl .eel. 

Grandmother's Apology, 
Xie. 



Her Name. 

Jerry. 

Joan of Arc at the Stake 
(Tableau"). 

Knowledge and Wisdom. 

Life's Loom. 

Lisping Lover, The. 

Little Boy's Valentine, A. 

Little Gottlieb's Christmas. 

Mice at Play. 

Model American Girl, The. 

Modern Facilities for Evan- 
gelizing the World. 

Mona's Waters. 

Naomi and Her Daughters- 
in-Law (Tableau). 

New Slate, The. 

Nicodemus Dodge. 

No Kiss. 

Old Year and the New, The. 

One Flower for Nelly. 

Parson's Fee; or, The Bag 
of Beans, The (Tableau). 

Possible Consequences of a 
Comet Striking the Earth 
in the Pre-glacial Period. 

Prospeets of the Republic. 



Aunty Doleful's Visit. 

Aux Italiens. 

Ballad of Cassandra Brown, 

The. 
Battle Flag at Shenandoah, 
„ The. 

Bell of Zanora, The. 
Bells, The. 

Bells Across the Snow. 
Beyond the Mississippi. 
Bishop's Visit. The. 
Blind Poet's Wife, The. 
Book Can vasser, The. 
Brother's Tribute, A. 
Convention of Realistic 

Readers. 
Country School, The. 
Discontentment. 
Dude, The. 

Duelist's Victory, The. 
Earnest Views of Life. 
Easter-Tide Deliverance, 

A. D. 439. 
Engineers Making Love, 



Fall of 
The. 



Pemberton Mill 



CONTENTS OF No. 

Felon's Cell, A. 

Fly's Cogitations, A. 

God's Love to Man. 

Good-Bye. 

Grace of Fidelity, The. 

How Girls Study. 

How the Gospel came to 

Jim Oaks. 
Industry Necessary to the 

Attainment of Eloquence, 
Innocence. 

Interviewing Mrs. Pratt. 
I would'na Gie a Copper 

Plack. 
Jesus, Lover of my Soul. 
Jimmy Brown's Steam 

Chair. 
Lasca. 
Legend of the Beautiful, 

The. 
Life's Story. 
Lincoln's Last Dream. 
Luther. 
Magic Buttons. 
Maister an' the Bairns, The. 
'Malaria. 
[Man's Mortality. 



11. 

Queen Vashti's Lament. 

Rock Me to Sleep. 

Romance of a Hammock. . 

Shadow of Doom, The. 

Song of the Mystic. 

Speeches of Zenobia anj 
her Council in Reference 
to the Anticipated War 
with Rome (Dialogue). 

Sunday Fishin'. 

Supposed Speech of John 
Adams on the Declaration 
of Independence. 

Telephonic Conversation, A, 

This Side and That. 

Thora. 

Ticket o' Leave. 

Trial of Fing Wing (Dia- 
logue). 

Tribute to Sir Walter Scott, 
A. 

Wedding of Shon Maclean, 
The. 

Where's Annette? 

Winter in the Lap of 
Spring (Tableau). 

Wonders of Genealogy, The 

12. 

Mine Schildhood. 
Newsboy's Debt, The. 
Old Book, That. 
Old Letter. 

Over the Orchard Fence- 
Pantomime, A. 
Poor- House Nan. 
Popular Science Catechism. 
Power of the Tongue, The. 
Psalm Book in the Garret, 

The. 
Receiving Calls. 
Santa Claus in the Mines. 
Serenade, The. 
She Cut his Hair. 
Skeleton's Story, The. 
Story of Chinese Love, A. 
Tarrytown Romance, A. 
Teddy McGuire and Pad*" 

O'Flynn. 
Temperance. 
Ter'ble 'Sperience, A. 
Total Annihilation. 
Trying to be Literal" - 
Wave, The. 
Wendell Phillips. 
Yosemite. 



"The selections in the Elocutionists* Annual present a very pleat* 
Ing variety in style and subject, and afford a convenient little 
volume from which to make selections for readings and recitations."— -Bur- 

lington Hawkeye. 



CONTENTS OF No. 13. 



Abbess's Story, The. [Jehcshaphafs Deliverance. 

After-Dinner Speech by «,j.jadf Bohesia, The. 

Frenchman. Landlord s Visit, The. 

Ancient Miner's Story, The. Little Quaker Sinner, The. 
Aristarchus Studies Elo-i Lead the Way. 



cution. 

At Last. 

Aunt Betsy and Little Da- 
Ty (Dialogue). 

Aunt Polly's " George 
Washington." 

Banford's Burglar- Alarm. 

Better Things. 

Canada. 

Chase, The. 

Child's Dream of a Star, A. 

Chopper's Child, The. 

Cloud, The. 

Devotion (Tableau). 

Diana (Tableau). 

Ego et Echo. 

Elijah and the Prophets of 
Baal. 

Griffith Hammerton. 

Humblest of the Earth - 
Children, The. 

In the Signal -Box; a' Sta- 
tion Master's Story. 



Legend of the Organ- 
Builder, The. 

Let the Angels King the 
Bells. 

Literary Becreations. 

Lord Dundreary in the 
Country. 

Marit and I. 

Mary's Night Bide. 

Marry Me, Darlint, To- 
Night. 

Memorial Day. 

Methodist Class Meeting, A 

Mine Shildren. 

Mother and Poet. 

Murder of Thomas a Beck- 
et (Dialogue). 

New Cure for Bheumatism, 
A. 

New Year ; or, Which Way ? 
The. 

Old Continentals, The. 

Old Man Goes to Town.The. 



Only. 

On the Stairway. 

Out to Old Aunt Mary's, i 

Our Relations to England, 

Playful (Acting Charade), 

Playing School. 

Public Speech. 

Begulus to th* Carthagin- 
ians. 

Bhymlet, A. 

Smoke of Sacrifice, The. 

Song of the American Ea- 
gle. 

Spring Poet, The. 

Statuary (Tableaux). 

Tableaux from Hiawatha, 
with Beadings. 

Three Graces, The (Ta- 
bleau). 

Tribute to Longfellow, A. 

Two Stammerers, The. 

Union Forever, The (Ta- 
bleau). 
Uncle Ben." 

V-a-s-e, The. 

Yosemite, The. 

Zarafi. •*> 



The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1416 and 1418 CHESTNUT STREET, 

Philadelphia. 



Dr. EDWARD BROOKS, A. M., President. 



f"~l"~^HIS Institution offers superior facilities for Class 
and Private Instruction in all departments of 
a complete Elocutionary and Oratorical Course. Cata- 
logue (QQ pages) sent free on application to the Seev 
retary. 



J. H. Bechtel. 



IPBCUkXrTIHX 



IN addition to our own publications herein mentioned, 
we make a specialty of supplying works relating 
to Elocution and Oratory, either in quantity or 
single copies. Orders for books upon any subject will 
receive our prompt attention and be rilled upon most 
favorable terms. 

For some time past we have felt the necessity of 
effecting an arrangement whereby we could sup*4y the 
constant and increasing demand for 




Special & ^elections. 



It gives us great pleasure to announce that we now 
have facilities for filling this long-felt want. Selections 
are frequently read in public which please the audience 
and lead them to desire a copy, but not being persoifcally 
acquainted with the reader, and knowing neither the 
author nor the publisher, they are at a loss to know how 
to proceed to obtain it. In most cases if the title be 
given us, or a short description of the selection, we can 
send the name and cost of the book in which the selec* 
tion is found ; and upon receipt of price, we will for- 
ward a copy of the work. 

2 



practical G^ oeu tion 

BY J. W. SHOEMAKER, A. M. 



■*#=»■ ENLARGED. «#*• 



Designed for use in Schools and Colleges and 
for all interested in Elocution. 



300 Pages, Handsomely Bound, post-paid, $1.25. 

PRACTICAL ELOCUTION, as its name imports, is a con- 
densed yet comprehensive treatment of the whole subject of 
elocution, giving brief consideration to all the topics bearing 
upon natural expression. 

In response to the request for illustrative reading matter, the book 
has been enlarged by the addition of one hundred pages of the 
choicest selections, affording the widest range of practice in the 
several departments of Voice, Articulation, Gesture, Analysis, 
and Expression, subjects which are fully treated in the body of the 
work. 

Prof. R. L. Cumnock, Professor of Rhetoric and Elocution in 
the Northwestern University, Evanston, 111., says: — "One of the 
best books I have seen for work in the recitation room." 

From Prof. Geo. P. Beard, Principal State Normal School, Lock 
Haven, Pa. : — " Practical Elocution has been in use in this 
school as the leading text-book in the theory of elocution for 
several years. I regard it as the best of its kind extant. It is not 
only practical, but philosophical, suggestive, and complete." 

Prof. V. A. Pinkley, Principal of the Department of Elocution 
of the famous College of Music at Cincinnati, says :— -" Practi- 
cal Elocution is the condensation of years of practical exper- 
ience in elocutionary training, which gives the work A CLEARNESS, 

A SIMPLICITY, A CONCISENESS, A FITNESS FOR CLASS-ROOM DRILL, 

such as no mere theorist could produce. I have used this work in 
the training of more than two thousand pupils, many of whom 
have also used it in instructing others, and I hear no verdict other 
than that the work is a genuine success.' ■ 

Liberal discount for introduction and in quantity. 

Sold by all Booksellers, or by 

The National School of Elocution and Oratory, Publishers, 

publication department, No. 1416 & 1418 Chestnut Street, 

Chas. C. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA* 



EXTEMPORE SPEECH, 

HOW TO ACQUIRE AND PRACTICE IT, 

BY REV, WILLIAM PITTENGER, 

Author of «« Oratory \» 



A TIMELY WORK ON A VITAL TOPIC. 



ft* 



1 HIS new book deals with a subject of deep interest lo all whj 
have occasion to speak in public. It therefore appeals 
■■ not only to those who are connected with the affairs of 
Government— National, State and Municipal— but 
also to members of Boards of Education, of Public Institu- 
tions, of Public Works, of Exchange, of Finance, to 
Officers and Directors of Railroads, Banks, Insur- 
ance and other Companies, and to all who have plans to 
present and opinions to express upon current questions, and who 
desire to so marshal their thoughts and words as to carry conviction 
to the minds of their hearers and advance the cause advocated by 
the speaker. 

While the different modes of speech are fully described, and the 
special merits of other forms of address are clearly pointed out, the 
particular object of this book is to show how a man of average 
ability may learn to speak extemporaneously with 
ease and certainty. Mere generalities are discarded, while 
all those little details of practical work which the theorist overlooks 
are made prominent. Some parts of the work are simple 
enough to be comprehended by a school-boy, and 
may be applied by him in his first efforts; other parts may be 
read with profit by tine orator already in the maturity oi 
his powers. 

Not every man may become a Clay or a Webster, yet whoevei 
follows the directions here given may feel assured that he is on 
the high-road to the greatest success within the reach 
of his faculties. 

275 Pages, Handsomely Bound, Cloth, - - $1,25 



For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or will be sen^ 
postpaid, upon receipt of price. Liberal discount in quantity. 

National School of Elocution and Oratory, Publishers, 

Publication Department. No. 1416 & 1418 Chestnut Street, 

Ohas. 0. Shoemaker. Manager, PHILADELPHIA* 



HUMOR-PA1HOS-ELOQUENCE. 



VOLUMES 1. 2, 3, 4, ETC. 

Desig-ned for Public and Social Entertainment, 
and for use In Schools and Colleges. 

EDITED BY 

J. W. SHOEMAKER, A. M., 
Late President of the National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

AND MRS. J. W. SHOEMAKER, Vice-President. 

Volume 1 consists of Numbers One, Two and Three, 
Volume 2 of Four, Five and Six, 

Volume 3 of Seven, Eight and Nine, and 
Volume 4 of Ten, Eleven and Twelve of the Elocutionist's Annual. 

They contain 6oo large i2mo pages each, on excellent paper, 
In clear, open-faced type, easy to read, substantially bound, and 
are so arranged with Indexes of Selections, Authors, etc., as 
to make them not only the most valuable collections of Choice 
Readings ever published, but the most complete as books of Ready 
Reference. 

- Retail Prices, Per Volume, Postpaid. 

Cloth Edition, #1.50; Green and Gold Edition, £2.00 ; Turkey 
Morocco Edition, $2.50. Liberal discount on large orders. To 
Schools, Colleges, etc., a special discount will be made upon the 
first supply. 

An Oration by Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, delivered before the 
National School of Elocution and Oratory, May 29th 1876. Large, 
clear type, limp Cloth, with facsimile of author's signature, post- 
paid, 25 cents. 

V/hite jguxiliglil! of Potent! ^{qi&s. 

An oration by Rev. John S. Macintosh, D. D. Delivered before 
the National School of Elocution and Oratory, June 15th, 18S1. 
Postpaid, Cloth, 25 cents. Sold by all Booksellers, or by 

National School of Elocution and Oratory, Publishers, 

PuBuoATfON department, No. 1416 & 1418 Chestnut Street, 

Ohas. O. Shoemaker. Manager. _ PHILADELPHIA. 



JUST FROM! THE PRESS ! 



SRoem&ker^ * Di&Io^i^. 

ENTIRELY NEW AND ORIGINAL. 



This volume has been prepared in response to many urgent and 
repeated requests. Every one in charge of entertainments and ex- 
hibitions has experienced the difficulty in procuring fresli and 
interesting dialogues. To meet this want is the object of the pres- 
ent work. While the worth of the volume will be appreciated only 
after actual use, yet we respectfully invite all interested to 

NOTICE THE FOLLOWING POINTS? 

1. Every dialogue has been prepared especially for this work. 

2. Provision has been made for all ages— children, youths, and 
adults— and for all occasions— Parlor Entertainments, Sunday and 
Day School Exhibitions, Holiday Anniversaries, National and Pa- 
triotic Celebrations, Temperance Meetings, etc., etc. 

3. We have selected only such dialogues as have a strong and 
well developed plot ; such as are unexceptional in literary expres- 
sion, and such as have a healthy moral tone. 

4. The editor, Mrs. J. W. Shoemaker, is eminently qualified by 
her wide experience for a work of this nature, and by her direction 
the dialogues have been prepared on a comprehensive plan of 
great variety, as suggested by her long familiarity with the wants 
of the elocutionary public. 

PROMINENT AMONG THE PRODUCTIONS WILL BE POUND 

" Ruggles & Co.," by Charles Stokes Wayne, of the Philadelphia 
Bulletin, a very touching sketch from everyday life. 

"Genevra," founded on the story of Rogers' poem, by Emma 
Sophie Stilwell. 

•• The Ghost of Crooked Lane," a laughable sketch, by George M. 
Vickers. 

44 The Spirit of Liberty," by Mrs. S. L. Oberholtzer, unique and 
patriotic, with concealed chorus. 

44 Ten Famous Women," by Elizabeth Lloyd. Historical, inter- 
esting, and instructive. 

44 Gretchen," by L. J. Rook. A sparkling doll story for two little 
girls. 

M Brave Boston Boys," by Morris Harrison. Thrilling and patri- 
otic. The Revolutionary story of the boys' complaint to General 
Gage against the British soldiers. 

A LARGE NUMBER OF OTHERS OP DECIDED MERIT. 

250 PAGES. HANDSOMELY BOUND, POSTPAID, $1.00. 
Sold by all the leading booksellers, or mailed upon receipt of price. 

The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1416 AND 1418 CHESTNUT STREET, 
PUBLICATION DEPARTMENT, 

OHAS C. SHOEMAKER, Manager, PHILADELPHIA. 



SOMETHING FOR THE CHILDREN. 



YOUNG POLES' 

l(e&diiK$ $ Recitations, 



Handsomely engraved cover, 104: pages. 

Paper Edition, postpaid, 15 cents. 

Boards, postpaid, 25 cents. 



ft^HIS book contains choice Readings, Recitations, Dialogues, 
X and Tableaux^ adapted to the Home Circle, Juvenile Concerts,, 
School Exhibitions j Sunday-school Gatherings, etc., etc. 

The high character of our publications is a guarantee of the 
literary merit of this work. In the preparation of this little 
volume the compiler has had in view especially the wants 
of children. Some of the recitations are adapted to " tiny little 
tots " of four and five summers, while others are suited to those of 
the " mature age of fourteen and fifteen years." 

Entertainments given by children, assisted, perhaps, by their 
older brothers and sisters, are intensely interesting. The scarcity 
of suitable material for such occasions is universally acknowledged 
by those who have had experience in this direction. We are there- 
fore confident that this collection will supply a long-felt want. 
While some of the old favorites have been retained, the book is 
largely made up of fresh, crisp, and wholesome selections, many 
of them appearing for the first time in permanent form. 

The selections are not repetitions of any contained in our other 
publications. 

Special attention is directed to the price, which has been placed 
so unusually low that no father or mother will think it too large a 
sum to spend in gratifying the little ones. 

National School of Elocution and Oratory, Publishers, 

D ' No. *416 & 1418 Chestnut Street, 

Pu&ucation Department, 

Chas. C. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA. 



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— «txrts|?e)^j~ 



~^§- NEW AND ORIGINAL. |.gfr~ 



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GHILDREN'S ENTERTAINMENTS are alway en- 
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preparation of this little book, and to that end only such 
dialogues have been accepted as are bright and sparkling, 
and are at the same time short, plain and simple, and easy 
to speak. They are suited to children from five to 
fifteen years of age, and are adapted to every form of 
public and private entertainment. 

For sale by Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed upon 
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The National {School of QfttoflJ, puhlighei% 

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CHABLES 0. SHOEMAKER, Manager. PHILADELPHIA, PA. 



A 






By REV. BEm WARD BEECBEft. 
*^~ ~ V 

Neatly Bound, Cloth, prepaid, 40 Cts. 



FTTHE attention of all persons interested in the Art 
^ I (q of Expression is invited to our new issue of 

-*- Henry Ward Beecher's unique and masterly- 
exposition of the fundamental principles of true 
oratory. 

"Training in this department," says Beecher, "is 
the great want of our day ; for we are living in a land 
whose genius, whose history, whose institutions, whose 
people, eminently demand oratory." 

It must be conceded that few men have enjoyed a 
wider experience or have achieved a higher reputation 
in the realm of public oratory than our author. What 
he has to say on this subject is born of experience, and 
his own inimitable style is at once both statement and 
illustrative of his theme. 

From The School Journal, New York City : — " Richly 
freighted with the golden fruit of observation, ex- 
perience, sympathy, understanding, knowledge, and 
reason.' ' 

Sold by all Booksellers, or by 

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No. 1416 & 1418 Chestnut Street, 

PHILADELPHIA. 



"A Knowledge of the Mind lies at the Foundation of all Education/' 

JVEejWal jSeiEjteE .fljto Gfr ttftfSE 

By Edward Brooks, A. M., Ph. D. 



504 Pages, Large 12 mo, Cloth, postpaid, $1.75. 



ftrHIS work opens a new era in the Science of Teaching. Recog- 
JL nizing that a knowledge of the human mind lies at the founda- 
tion of the teacher's work, it aims to present a clear idea of the 
nature of the mind and the manner irr which its faculties may be de- 
veloped and trained. The author presents in a few pages the result of 
the thought and experience of many years spent in the instruction of 
teachers in mental philosophy. Indeed, the work grew up in the 
class- room; and it is thus especially adapted to the instruction of 
the young in the nature and culture of the mind. The method of 
treatment, too, is so direct and simple, and the statement of facts so 
clear, that the private student will be readily able to understand and 
master the subject. 

"That Divine and Beautiful Thing called Teaching." 

I^O^MAL0)EUIHODS op (g)E aching 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 



504 Pages, Large 12 mo, Cloth, postpaid, $1.75. 



THIS work is designed as a Text- Book on Teaching for Normal 
Classes and for young persons who are preparing to teach. 
The matter was originally prepared for the author's "Teaching 
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years. It is thus in a form readily understood and remembered by young 
teachers, and embraces those principles and methods which can be 
immediately applied in the work of the school-room. The univer- 
sal testimony of those who have examined the book is, that it is just 
the work that has been needed in normal classes and by the common- 
school teachers of the country. 

Liberal discount in quantity. Special rates for first supply to 
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• National School of Elocution and Oratory, Publishers, 

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C. C. SHOEMAKER. MANAGE*. PHILADELPHIA. 



Elocutionary Charts. 

BY J. W. SHOEMAKER, A. M., 
3*uie President of the National School of Elocution and Oratory 



At the request of a large number of students, we have prepared and published 
for public use the charts of the National School of Elocution and Oratory, 
thus affording to teachers the benefit of our long experience and ripest thought 
in the analysis of this important department of culture, as well as in the selection 
»nd arrangement of exercises for the natural and healthy development of the voice. 

No. i is a large wall chart 60 x 72 inches, handsomely engraved and mounted 
entitled 

Outline of Elocution aqd Aq&I$ig of principle^ 

The arrangement of this Chart is striking and suggestive, and presents a clear 
and practical analysis of the whole subject. Beginning with the Definitions o< 
Elocution, it proceeds to treat of its Importance, of Conversation as its basis, 
of Principles and of Methods of Instruction. The outline of these topics, 
with their natural subdivisions, will enable the teacher to proceed systematically 
with the work of instruction, and will at the same time assist the student to an 
intelligent comprehension of the subject. It suggests the necessity of voice 
Culture, and of careful drill in the Elements of Speech as indispensable to the art 
of expression. No. 2 is a wall chart 32 x 44 inches, entitled 

TABLE OF V06AL EXERCISES, 

presenting in outline the system of voice culture employed by the National 
School of Elocution and Oratory, and will be found of very great practical 
value to teachers or students, and to all interested in this important field of Art. 
Voice culture is universally recognized as one of the fundamental requisites of 
effective Elocution, and our broad experience in this department of teaching war- 
rants us in the belief that by careful training and judicious exercise, this desira- 
ble accomplishment may be acquired by all. The distinctive aims of this Chart 
are to secure Purity, Power, Flexibility and Character of tone. Begin- 
ning with the long vowel sounds, Natural and Conversational, it proceeds 
to the systematic -cultivation of the voice, in response to the whole field of sen- 
timent and passion. Then by a carefully arranged set of sentences these princi- 
ples are immediately applied to expression, thus securing to the student such 
facility in their us* as will enable him to apply them either in Conversation, in 
Reading, or in Puolic Address. 

PBIOE8. 
Outline of Elocution and Analysis of Principles, . • . $5.00 < 
Table of Vocal Exercises, . . . . . • . 2.00 
Vpecial discount for introduction and by the quantity. 

National School of Elocution and Oratory, Publishers, 

Publication Department. No. 1416 & 1418 Chestnut Street, 

Ohas. O. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA* 



